Don't Front (feat. Buckshot)

Used to get, bent, now I represent to the fullest

Pencil is full of insolent bullets

I'm like a Doberman Pinscher, Pitbull and a Rott'

Mixed with a toxic, the plot begins to thicken

I begin to spitting like vintage Pac, demented

Demonic sinister, ever since the the Doc replenished me

The day he gave me that shot when I was just 'bout to quit

So to not see him with me would be a shocking image

And I'm the definition of what a concrete chin is

Cause no matter how many times you sock me in it

And knock me to the canvas, even the boxing critics

Know that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll always have a Rocky finish

Eat me brocoli, spinach, cocky? Nope

But I hope I offended you when I told ya how dope I am at this

And put emphasis on the "dope," so when names come up

In that conversation of who's the dopest, better throw mine in it

And don't mind me, while I remind you of the flow

You won't find anywhere, where it fires and I unload my pen explodes

'til there's no rhymes in it, reload in no time

Let insults fly even sixty seconds that go by, so you know I meant it

In school I was so shy, timid

Two pairs of jean's I'd alternate, bummy clothes, I 'member

Begging my mom for Kmart MacGregors cause they were new

St. Vincent de Paul, those Pony's were used, and no size fitted

But kissed them old days, adios, I did it

They said I was a gimmick, now I'm the one that those guys mimic

Now you fuckers don't wanna go starting no argument

Cause you know I'll win it, name a flow that's more authentic and don't front

Buckshot:

Don't front, you know I got you open, kid

Rest in piece to Big Proof, you was a beast, you lyrically mirrored me

Molded my flow off of you, your spirit's flowing through me

I love you, Doody, without you I feel so incomplete

I'm no king, no need for rose petals to be thrown at my feet

I’m a thorn in your side, get thrown into a throne

Better watch the fucking tone that you speak

Feel like I'm in the zone, I'm in a whole different league

On my motherfucking own, it's just me, no opponents can compete

And I’ve never been known to retreat from beef

Beep beep, follow trends or wallow in defeat

I'm still hungry as fuck, but can't even say bon appetit

Cause I don't know what to eat, fucking microphone or the beat

Bitch, nobody's mind works like mine

It's nose to the grindstone time, holmes

Your mind's blown cause I rhyme like I'm still trying to get signed

Up in the Ebony Showcase with Denaun screaming

"Who the fuck passed you the mic?"

Never asked you like my shit from the git

I'd rather ask you to wipe my ass, bitch

You had you a nice run, now take a hike

I ever meet my match I'mma strike that bitch first

Cause on the mic I gotta represent the real rappers

The real rappers get their motherfucking skills cracking

Word to Buckshot and Dru-Ha, why the fuck not?

You don't like it? Suck a cock! Almost forgot

Before I signed with the Doc I almost signed with Duck Down

Cause Rawkus didn't make no offers, so mothafuck Loud

They jerked me around so what's up now?

Wow, how much of an asshole would I sound like

Rubbing it and holding some grudge now, but don't front

Late at night, used to catch a buzz, couldn't write

Now I write the type of shit to make you wipe

But wear diapers cause you might leave a streak

I’m on a streak windshield wipers couldn't wipe

It's hard to decipher what cypher I might jump into tonight

Cause I’m hyper for something, need someone or something

This ighting this fire under me

It's breathing new life, it's like I already died once

I guess some people only live twice, and it's funny

My days of being broke was so long ago I lost my concept of money

But you dimes won't get a fucking nickle from me

Oh shit, I'm down on one knee

I'm having a stroke of genius, Elizabeth I'm coming to you, honey

From boy to man, it's still make a whore moan like a thyroid gland

I'm in another category, man, don't put me up with them pop stars

I never needed a pat on the back to get at-a-boy band

No offense - yes offense, precedents has been set that'll never get met

Little fingers pressed against Moby's nose

Shouts to Obie, the curtains closed on my show

(But never forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it)

You can't take it, oh

Got a whole generation of rappers coming up that are nutty with the flow

But convince me you've heard

An emcee since me who's this good with the fucking mincing of words

Without mixing words that'll make you feel like I'm pinching a nerve

Whose mentally disturbed, you might as well stick a knife in me and turn

It'll be like my skin being Indian burned

Hah, bitch there isn't one, when will you learn?

Never been served if memory serves

I'd battle that 'til my own recollection remembers these words