Felony Offenders - Cas Metah, Playdough, Deacon The Villain

Yo Cas, who lives like this?

Living it large

Get a strong rap beat and I’m killing them bars

Got a long rap sheet and I’m guilty as charged

Got secrets I can’t keep so we giving them ours

I got to tell it, yell it and back it up with a mug shot

Dirty Harry couldn’t carry half the dangle Doug got

Give a Larry legendary leprechaun a jump shot

Never carry more than I can bury into one sock

My note book’s 2K and it weighed a ton

So me and Cas ain’t fast but we made a run

Right where the fader drum, dumb ditty dumb

Here we come, get them high, give me give me some some

This is point break, like a bank job

My ball point thanks, what a great job

What a great God, what a good beat

Rapping with a dope verse exactly how it should be

Uh huh uh huh uh huh

Verse 2 (Copywrite):

I pick up the state pen and write a prison sentence

Bars all day, got words, not Murs but a living legend

Will I get to Heaven?

That’s not even a worry

Christ mediates for the Father, there’s not even a jury

You’re album stunk from out the trunk

When you put out the CD we thought you put out a skunk

Me, Playdough and Cas Metah, track wetters

Fellas with mad cheddar get shredded like bad lettuce

We got a track fetish, we knock letters on they back when a track hit us

And what’s wrong with you?

How dare you diss us, what song you do?

Aside from the X-Men name a stronger crew, ugh

Hit you from strange angles, call me Doctor Octagon

Giving these emcees delivery tips, Papa Johns

When I rock a song you would swear Pac was on

A felony offender with a tendency to talk to moms

Verse 3 (Cas Metah):

This isn’t Missy Misdemeanor this is Biggie with his nine

Still on the streets of Brooklyn scheming to get his re-up

Ugh, We all sinners with some sort of addiction

Difference in us is I was born to admit it

This is more than a gimmick, meet the lords of the pen

You’ll get torn in a minute but we destroy and rebuild

Everywhere we tour, any city we in

People be tripping balls like we be giving them ‘cid

Probably ‘cause the way we dropping hit after hit

Got it rolling off they tongue, spit after spit

I came to make the crowd move crib after crib

Forget Twitter, come and follow Metah like the Grateful Dead

Yeah that sound like the name for lames I laid to rest

Said I’ll take you to the maker, word to Maker and Qwel

Peace to Jayo, C-write and Playdough

You ought to lay low before you taking a L

Uh huh uh uh