Y'all Ain't Good Enough

[Intro: Apathy (Celph Titled)]

Ya see...(What's cracka-latin'?)

There's one thing you need to understand (And what's that?)

Demigodz (Uh-huh)...are the most prestigious (Oh, no question)

When Apathy approaches the throne (Word up, yeah)

All hail Caesar (You heard?)

(Curt Cazal on the motherfuckin' track)

(Apathetic and Celph Titled, we gon' do it like this)

[Chorus: Celph Titled]

Y'all niggaz wanna be thugs with nothin' to say?

(Y'all ain't good enough)

We takin' ya pay

(Y'all ain't good enough)

Get outta my way

(Y'all ain't good enough)

Y'all niggaz wanna be pimps, can't get no ass?

(Y'all ain't good enough)

Your trick and your cash

(Y'all ain't good enough)

We movin' in fast

(Y'all ain't good enough)

[Verse 1: Apathy]

I'm liver than Thai weed for freaks, drive high speed through streets

I could freestyle for weeks if they bangin' the beats

I never sweat the opposition, my position is locked

Different chickens are switchin' positions when lickin' the cock

When hittin' skirts, I don't even need to drop a written verse

Freestyle and have her legs open wide like givin' birth

Don't let me start, 'cause I'll finish 'em off

Like you tried to play Tiger Woods in miniature golf

Admit it, you lost, the minute you crossed the first tee

Verse me? Rappers, the strength of Hercules couldn't hurt me

Y'all better dress in a Kevlar suit

'Cause my clips make more hits than Neptunes' group

And I spit gasoline, so the booth'll get doused

Then ignited from the flames in the roof of my mouth

When I write, it's like the brainwaves shoot to get out

When you bite, I take aim like you're lootin' my house

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Celph Titled]

It ain't a motherfucka rappin' like this, clappin' the fifth

They'll put your back in a twist and only empty half of the clip

I spit but really never got nothin' to say

Every verse consist of curse words and plenty of gun spray

But I don't give a fuck, this is how I write rap flows

You probably listen to Common and rock them tight-ass clothes

Try to change your image, you dudes be followin' hard shit

While we bring more funk than Bootsy Collins' armpits

We on some shit, throwin' banquets at $10,000 a plate

Your girl's been over for hours, it's late

Time to...take her home, so we skate from the Chrome...Depot

In high school, they used to call me Chico

Back in '93, I was shakin' parties up

Lickin' off uzi clips in the air

puttin' holes in the ozone layer - playa

Gangsta you're not, let me discuss

I think with my dick, so I'm always ready to bust

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Apathy]

You're a waste of air; the kick, the bass, the snare, your face, your hair

I'ma tear apart whatever God placed you there

Prepare to have your domepiece spinnin' around

I'm pinnin' you down, face first, chin to the ground

I'm the reason why the cops walk the blocks with Glocks

Why the sun's hot and why your tongue locks when beats drop

The reason for the season change, the breezes, the rain

Hurricanes tearin' brains outta radar's range

Strange, eerie sounds under beds at night

Make heads spread with mics like the legs of dykes

I'm the prototype for Kawasaki motorbikes

Nagasaki blowin' mics, kamikaze sippin' saki

Nobody can stop me on my path of destruction

You rappers get sucked in and crushed in a massive abduction

You said you're large but you couldn't get a small part

In a commercial for Wal-Mart pushin' mall carts

[Chorus]