Voices - Kool Keith, Godfather Don

Yeah Pony L and Dr. Strangelove

Once again, I gotta tell you how it is

I used to check out, use the mad route stare at these ugly bitches Sit at the

table with frowns with their stomachs out

Cellulite for weeks, rules in these New York streets

With mad babies, big heads movin' in the stroller

You gettin' older while that dress hangs off your shoulder

You stupid bitch, he’s sick, the kids got the shits

You walkin' wack with those problems in your ass crack

You chose this nigga, he’s a zero girl, doin' nothin'

You was buggin' because the bum had curly hair

You got psyched, the baby came out with some nappy hair

You was a fine freak, thoroughbred dumb with no head

I seen you scrape up your pennies up at B.B.Q.s

Your friends are fat with guts, breakin' all the rules

You choose to lose, no cheers, receivin' boos

Rent is due with some old crab nigga fuckin' you

It’s true, it’s summertime, what you gonna do?

Every winter you got this gay man screwin' you

This bitch is a problem, no money, fuckin' dummy

She’s from the slum actin' fly fuckin' bread crumb

Shopliftin' programs runnin' on the boulevard

Stretch marks leak out your tight dress, your legs are scarred

Yeah…

Voices inside my head

Problems keepin' you fed

This bullshit needs to cease, rappers rappin' for cheese

It’s like a disease the way niggas be snackin' for fees

Executives, even accountants playin' artists like chips

The last time you was legit… I was suckin' on nips

Up in my shit like a dog checkin' for sex

Babies and gettin' the Lex, hey they forget

While the door slammin', dick crammin', eye jammin'

Wait, «My show’s slammin'», cash up your nose Hammond

Landin' deals ain’t shit if your label ain’t shit

Nitwits split for sips while I flip scripts legit

Commit to whippin' ass on the mic, it’s like a fuckin' runway

These niggas is like bitches feelin' through gunplay

One day when lyrical finesse is stressed instead of dress I’ll compress

Compression and hate, blow out the best, but it’s cool

Fools like you makin' crews thats blue stay true

One-Thousand lyrical orators, pay dues

So snooze and get dissed, bust in the head with Cris'

Fake ice on your wrist, I’m nice and you on my dick like piss

You wish you was half the lyricist that I persist to be

Don’t say shit to me, Godfather like Sicily

The misery’s consistencies acidity

Will blemish these abnormalities in the industry

Voices inside my head

Problems keepin' you fed

Voices inside my head

Problems keepin' you fed