DBC - Heaven Help The M.F.'s lyrics

Break! [Verse 1: (?)] Struggle remembered by me and Stet members Came close to d**h in '84 September Hard times just to get on wax Now the whack ones was on Meanwhile we're still waiting for a contract Even all our contacts dissed us And from experience Imma have to discuss The situation, in it's entirety Groups had records, ignore us and would try to be Better than we was, like we was frozen We would say peace, and they would keep walking But you know what was the ultimate diss Being booked on a show and told you're not getting paid for this Spending money, almost broke and Riding the train so you gotta buy tokens Taking the chance at the time (?) Friends will rebel so there's no one to lean on Start with the teasin' Say n***a please and, you never be successful But they put us down without a reason They would do it just for laughs But the last laugh was done by us Because we stuck to the path of rapping Lips start flapping Showing up to all our shows and start clapping Like a blow pop went out like a s**er Heaven help the motherf**er [Verse 2: (?)] The long a** lines and waiting out in the cold But we on the guest list the ladies tell them Who is Stetsasonic? It don't mean Jack The front of the line? We in the back DB says f** it and goes back to Middletown The rest of the band? Well we hang around Long enough to find out the door's closed And no more can enter as far as the club goes And so we leave And we felt drained We got no car, so we get on a train We say to ourselves, that they'll come a day That we get on, and somebody's gotta pay So you ask me why we act so funny Say we changed 'cause we got a little money But we ain't changed, we still the same We just got wise and hip to the dumb game Like some get stuck, and some get stucker But those that stick Stet, heaven help the mother f**er [Verse 3: (?)] So you thought that we were soft and pink That the Stet would fade away in a blink Now let me tell you man, you're losing focus Thought up your a**, 'cause bogy you're getting bogus A type of s**er who once was a brother For money, up the river he would sell his own mother Mr. Big Dick, rapping for the big hit Who wants the credit, but won't work a lick What did you bring to build for the long run That's how you're living? You're going out son Ho hum like all the rest of the bums We kicking up dope drums, you're picking up slum So here's the end to your sleazy sly The perfect time to bid your a** bye-bye And when you thought the Stet tale would end We're off and running And the legend begins Over and over, the burden we can shoulder Stars that shine as bright as a nova (?) keys man they keep the crowd swining (?) flakers we're not slaying A rugged stampede and all out rumba Again and again we're back to crush the doubt If you ever think to step to this s**a A warning, heaven help you mother f**er