I Gotta (Get Down) - CASUAL

I take rap to the pinnacle with my cynical interview

Forensics magnify the rhymes, none are identical

React

To the track when it go boom boom bap

Bring the Indian rain rap

So I can remain

In touch

You’ll honor the last left, brain rhymer

My presence on the mic is water on the rocks in a sauna

Huh, lyrical scenery

An uninhabited world of greenery

And plus my psychic ability enables me to see

That you’re not what you seem to be

The pro (MO STYLES)

Than cliffs

On the Grand Canyon

When I drop one watch one land where your man’s standin'

Might just ram my hand with your teeth

But I’m righteous carnivorous

Animals bite this

I give you a spot to start at

Right there

Your niggas be like, «You saw that?!»

You like, «Where?!»

Subconscious brain pain, call it a nightmare

Now that I got you seein' the light, STARE

Yeah, it’s aimin' dead into your retina

Not to threaten' ya but just let me KNOW

Is it hot or not?

Shoot the shot ya got

If not then pop

When every nigga rock the spot

I got… to get down (boogie)

I got… to get down

So many fables from labels it’s hard to stay stable

But a nigga stay up like seat backs or trey tables

Peep that

At any lecture that I speak at

I’m pitifully ridiculin' weak cats

For being ridiculous with the shit ya bust

I can tell ya sniffin' dust, tryin' to riff with us

Nigga, I bust rhymes like pomegranates

Fuck around and run the planet

Make the underhanded want to panic

I’m the fliest on papyrus

Look deep into my iris and try to deny US

It’s religion that I rip the rhythm

Got all fans wavin' they hands like hypnotism

And the weightless hate this

When I fuck around and start rippin' off the top like a rapist

While you stand by the mic on the wait list (I'm next man, I’m next)

Is it hot or not?

Shoot the shot ya got

If not then pop

When every nigga rock the spot

I got… to get down (boogie)

I got… to get down

When it gets hectic a dope fiend will use a Coca Cola can for a smokin' utensil

Like I wrote this rap, with a broken pencil

I smokes like a freight train

One man with eight brains

Punch will make a sadomasochist hate pain

Fatal, disastrous

Wait till I master this

Your glorious

Like Plato and?

The Audorius?

It’s likely we fuck with your psyche

Developin' mental mic maneuvers to make these marks like me

I be a wonder with words

Keep my styles inventive, spinnin' at 33 and 1/3

They heard of me in the flats, heard of me in the burbs

Studied my etiquette, lyrics embedded in tracks

Lookin' for action?

Peep the predicate you better get back

My format with raps stay ahead of the wack

It’s like you’re lost in the Sudan, caught in a sand trap

Napalm and anthrax, tell your man, «Stand back»

Or I’ll apply the pressure by hand man

They can’t stand that

My shit EXPLODE, where ever it land at

Up to the head

A nigga got his own sack

Rap vulture, hover where the microphone at

Like that

Is it hot or not?

Shoot the shot ya got

If not then pop

When every nigga rock the spot

I got… to get down (boogie)

I got… to get down

Outro:

You knowwwww.

Shit.

I see you right there bwoy