The Finest

The-, the finest

As the life cycle goes on (goes on)

And you learn to hold on (hold on)

To things like the mic (the mic)

And you learn to appreciate who's the nicest (appreciate)

On said device, but who is (the finest)

Tommy Tashuma, too much drama, blind behind the rumor

Time and time and time, my mind, I'm trying to find a tumor

Tommy Tashuma, no time for humor

As soon as one of ya men's dead in Hempstead, you trying to find Pumas

Sooner the better, even knitted a sweater already, keep your leather

We comin' through the brutal weather, we ready to do whatever

Yo, DOOM, you with it? You know it like a poet, my brother

Hey, Gunn, you with it? Whatever (the finest)

I know about going paid to broke to next day well-off

To bust a shell off, to dick-riders, "Get the hell off"

Made a call to a client, he must've had his cell off

A show-off, he has the same bike Puff fell off

I tell off the bat from science to pure facts

Which niggas is wack 'til they last two tracks?

Matter fact, y'all could wait for the rep to tell

The tall tale how he escaped from out the depths of hell

When die, he gon' die like a soldier die, holding a swollen eye

Drinking Olde Gold, smoking a stog

Watching po-po patrol the beach, blowing my high, rolling by

When Gunn die, he gon' try to preach the streets then go to the sky

Yup! That hold water, like drizzle in a paper cup

This one etched in stone, the chisel with the paper up

I need a cut, a taper-up, edge-up

Niggas can't measure up, I'm here to get the treasure up

Hands up, hold 'em high, do or die, he got heat, no surprise

Stop the beat, close your eyes, got the weed, rolling lye

Not sweet so no demise, all the guys drops seeds to multiply

Whatever the prophecies hold to lie (let's go!)

He bled my mother, my father, but can't bleed me

OD, ghetto misery

He bled my brother, my sister, but can't bleed me

A OG, ghetto misery

Bled my mother, my father, but can't bleed me

Sci.Fly, whole style stuck up

Used to talk to myself, I told him, "Shut the fuck up!"

Buckle up, 'cause it's about to be rough

He said, "Keep talking that shit, you 'bout to be snuffed"

Then we squashed it, I let 'em know, "Watch it"

We only met a time to join these rhymers in the mosh pit"

Gosh, it feels great just to increase the chance

For a pussy nigga face to hit the dance floor

I pull ya' top up, got clout, crack rock, what?

Now it's all good business, and so this bitch is locked up

On the dance floor, you got knocked out, your bitch got knocked up

Babyface, they can you, brand you, brand-new machete

Damn, I just shook your hand and can't stand you already

Can't stand you, understand you deadly

But my hammer's like a band, my man, it's Brand New and Heavy

Yo, DOOM, you ready? Yeah, yo, Gunn, you with it? Whatever

Come on stay, I wrote this rhyme on my born day

Remind me of the same style I flipped on, hey

Yikes! Who can fuck with the likes

Of one such who scores touchdown and spikes mics?

Metal grill, with many styles, better still

Feel like number 26 on a roulette wheel

And deal, and run rings around rhymers

And run rings like number runners whose old-timers

Shorty in the all black, she think she all that

I called her, she said, "Don't call back!"

She called me, now what you call that?

Let's go back, I sold crack

Hold gats, smoke that, drink that, toke that

Fuck! Where that ho at? Where that dough at?

Suffering succotash, this hooker broke into his last buck of cash

He love her, motherfuck her ass

Metal feet dented your car fender

My agenda up in the basement party tipping the bartender

Is unbeknownst to you, who could get body blown?

MF like Mike Fran Corleone

And got it sown, mar icon, like to know what you staring at?

An invisible cat, who pull off disappearing act

Raised by a pack of wild wisdoms like Sweetback

Front? I'ma be back

Like brothers in the street act

Surrounded by a bunch of bad bitches like Sweetback

Fuck with me, I'll be back like niggas in the streets act (streets act)

(Of black misery)

(The finest)

(Of black misery)