The Message

(Thirstin Howl III)

The rhymes you about to hear nevertheless of my own

This is for all you young MC's oh my how you've grown

You got bigger better stronger and much faster

I remember you were small or slow

With a speech impediment and had asthma

You a comedian when you started doin stand up?

And where you come up with all these fuckin stupid answers?

Your rhymes would be cute

If you wrote em on a pad that was pink

When MC's think, they're above the rim

I make them realize they really below the sink

Before we battle, check it out, I got these rules

You can't say: nine, spine, time

All that shit is pre-school

You could talk of shootings, but tell me so I would be clear

But don't brag about coke deliveries that will never be here

Don't mention your chickenhead and all her clothes by Versace

When she needs some orthopedic shoes - she's pigeontoed and knock-kneed

Save me the part about, Timb's and bandanas

Frontin in front of cameras, braggin about what your man does

I heard enough: glocks, cocks last year

That took niggaz to the cashier

But that ain't happenin for your ass here

I'm amazed in your sudden interest for espanol

But see, I won't, rhyme, out the house, unless I'm told

Don't speak of ice unless it's from the freezer

Your Rolex and Lexus in Texas, I don't wanna hear that either

How much cash you got is really none of my concern

As long as all of this is established, let me hear you, it's your turn