The Chancellor - Risque Rhymin' II lyrics

[Efemjay] Lyrics, somebody want lyrics? I got a myriad My flow is nasty like a bull-dyke's period It's straight up eerie, kid; the way I rip and flip a verse Sicker than your grandma dressed up as a stripper-nurse You can ask my man The Chancellor, he's happy to confirm it I'm never going out, I'm in the house like a hermit Take your rhyme book and burn it, kid, you'll never build a legacy With lyrics ill-conceived like an an*l-s** pregnancy [The Chancellor] I took a small hiatus, I got a little famous I went through different stages but still, I am the greatest On the M.I.C., you know me, I'm Chance Nasty Came back to rap, just to tickle your fancy You can't see, Chance Nasty and Flash Master Encroaching on your airwaves like a natural disaster You rat ba*tard, we're back on the scene Got you spazzing out like Ralphie cracking out for Ovaltine [Efemjay] s**ers step to me to try to get some fame I kick a** and take names, knock p**y walls out the frames I don't play games with the dames, I will destroy a b**h Out to get that money like Governor Blagojevich You know I keep it gutter, can I please have my ghetto pa** I used to watch The Sopranos just to see Meadow's a** I rock a metal flask full of vodka when I'm parasailin' I'm stupid off the dome like my name was Sarah Palin [The Chancellor] It's indifferent to me, if I see any currency Me? I'm puffin trees and you haters is irking me Shirking me off as that next cracker rapper Keep talking that sh**, I'll make your head-piece splatter I'm fresh, dressed, my style is so impeccable And around here, Timbs and bling are unacceptable You got no style, you don't know how to jet set I'm rocking throwbacks for teams that don't exist yet [Hook] "Reunited" / "My motherf**ing boy" / "Booger D" "Flash Master" / "Live in the place to be" (x2) [Efemjay] I'm blowing up the spot like a motherf**ing meth head I'm the illest rapper since Eazy-E was on his d**h bed I'm tested, never fold under pressure My rhymes are off the hook like the clothes on your dresser With the flows that you treasure and the beats that knock I got more styles that wrinkles on Milton Berle's co*k One ill a** line, yo, for each measure I get the dough, then I'm out like Heath Ledger [The Chancellor] Ay yo we're taking it back, to the roots of the game Where lyricism outweighs riches and fame Y'all sound the same, all y'all lame a** copy-catters How the f** you got the nerve to call yourselves rappers We're the grandmasters, and we're ashamed of what we seeing I could freestyle better than your written sh** when I'm peeing Emceeing's in my blood, I'm 'a rhyme 'til I die So if you're digging what im spitting throw your hands up high [Efemjay] You want to battle me but your sh** is pre-written Pathetic, like a flea-bitten wee kitten You's a p**y motherf**er, you probably pee sittin' You just can't f** with the sh** I be spittin' Off the dome or with the pen, yo, I'm nice with my mine Turn lyrics into water like Christ with wine She got a nice behind, but she wack from the front So I hit it from the back, put my sac in her c*nt, ungh! [The Chancellor] It's elementary, we be, the epitome In the hip hop industry we're going down in history Is that a mystery? nah, it's actual facts son We came up in the sticks, half hour from Jackson You're wack, son, you know you can't even hold a candle This Rollin Tribe sh** is just too much for you to handle It's just a sample, of some next level sh** Like Smooth B said, we come back with more hits [Hook] x2