Prelude To Coaches - Oliver Hart

«Now that I’m working out and conversing-»

(Now that I’m working out…)

«Macintosh»

The drugs

Say no to me

I broke emcees with

Poetry blowing holes in me

When I broke yo teeth

I go off this beacon

(What?)

(Hey baby, baby)

What, what, what?!

(Come here, come here!)

(It's that kid from Blaze Battle)

What do you want?

What do you want, man?

What the fuck do you want, man?

I don’t give a damn who-

(Listen!)

Man

You gon' have me here listening to this shit, man?

(Hell yeah!)

Turn this shit off man

Deleting you, deleting them, deleting men

I’m eating them, defeating them

Leave them weaklings

Been up in the weekend

I be serving them

Words is dumb cause I urge them-

(Turn that shit? Turn that shit back!)

Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about

Oh yeah, that’s my jam

(Turn that shit back! It’s Eyedea!)

Hey what are you doing?

(I'm saying, do you know who this is?)

Fuck that shit I’m up outta here

(Bye)

Emcees try to step up

My dick is what their lips touch

Bitch, what?

They want to try to step to this

I recommend that they couldn’t fuck with me

If they was down with an exorcist

Because I got demons and they got semen

Guaranteed beating me, hah, shit

I guarantee they was just dreaming

Keeping that shit tight

Every weekend speaking on this motherfucking mic

I keep that shit tight, locked like a door knob

Emcees try to step, I’m a rich cat they’re a poor slob

Don’t even try to step to this

I recommend that

When they ask their friends that

I just blast their ends in glass and shatter their chin

I’m badder on the patterns from Saturn and back

The raps is just gathering and fathoming

No imagination and I grab reputation

On the microphone

I grab the microphone and they be pacing slow

Breaking those, taking notes throw it often

Emcees try to step to me

They know they flowing soft

When we get through the jam

Emcees know you the man, please flow

I be grabbing the mic and making it stop

Like a bus depot

We blow so ill though

When I grab the microphone I stick like a dildo

When rip with the kill flow

So kid try to step

Terrell grab the microphone and take all their reps!

Who the sickest?

Who the quickest?

Who can lick this?

Who’s the sickest?

Who’s the quickest?

Who can lick this?

Yo my nigga Carnage, Carnage

Carnage, Carnage never talking that garbage

Emcees I be scrubbing the tarnish

Off of their ass quick

Melting like plastic;

quite sarcastic

When I grab the microphone emcees be

All smelling like fucking ass dick and

Any other thing that be smelling kinda funky

The rhyming junkie guaranteed to blast

Every emcee swinging like a monkey

In the motherfucking jungle I

Swung your lyrical style way off into another orbit

Yes I’m morbid;

more shit

Cause when I be kicking

Emcees I be ripping and

Thinking of taking you

And you wouldn’t even be stepping up to

These lyrical flows that I be using

Swiftly ripping the mic

Flipping the track

Never the one to be coming wack

Always the one to be smacking 'em

On their motherfucking back

When they be fucking wack

Think that they can hang with the way

That I burn a reflection

Don’t y’all wanna be wise

Til I get an erection

My selection

Symbolizing

Nothing but

Pure perfection

I take them out with verbal aggression

That’s what I be using

Emcees I be abusing with the rhymes I’m choosing

Guaranteed to never be losing a motherfucking battle

Emcees should

Go get a saddle and ride off try to get with the team

Gotta realize that my

Motherfucking rhymes are never soft

I be the lyrical boss when it comes to flipping that fast shit

Emcees running up to the microphone

And guaranteed to get their fucking ass kicked

No shopping rocks on the block

Cocking Glocks;

better not

Hopping spots when it’s hot

When I’m dropping props on the spot

My rock is not gonna stop

Shocking watts til you flock

Dropping crops til you’re fucked

To watch you flock to the jock

You talk a lot of shit that you can’t back up

And I’m not nervous cause

You’re an insecure bitch that acts tough

The the the the

The fact is e g a n r a c

Carries the weight of

Vocabulary heavy enough to leave your back

Crushed!

Drop before depressed chest

Make heart dark

Stomach plummet

Lyric rivers spleen

Scream knees screes

Find wine in

Back crack

Smash that nap sack

Filled with wack raps

Act black

Niggaro what’s in your flow

Abrasive

When I’m packing the heat

You’re attracting defeat

If your rapping is weak

Knuckles and feet’ll be

Cracking your teeth

When I’m properly

Interacting with beats

Hit the sack and the meat

Chin strong D.C.M

Of king b exhibits an

Ability to crumble

When rumble

Humble still

Downgrade your battle cry

To a feminine mumble

You might fumble away

Stumble

With great parallel to that of

Hyena in the jungle

Mic stand then lodged in bunghole

Plus your rhyme recital booed

Situation avoidable

If I’m just getting the respect

That I’m entitled to

You motherfuckers need to give up the props

And take notes

Today’s lesson:

If your lyrics suck

You ain’t clear to bust

Fear this cut

Better get used to us 'cause the only

Place we’re going from here is up