SECTION ONE - 1 HardC.O.R.E. Vol. 1, Issue 4 32893 Table of Contents Section Contents Auth

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SECTION ONE -- 1 HardC.O.R.E. Vol. 1, Issue 4 3/28/93 Table of Contents Section Contents Author ---- -------- ------ 1 Contents 2 C.O.R.E. info 3 David J - Rap Is An Art EP promotion dwarner@ucs.indiana.edu 4 R.Stone - Geto Boys juonsteve@bvc.edu 5 R.Stone - Ice T juonsteve@bvc.edu 6 Review - Lench Mob Alex Reed 7 Review - Geto Boys juonsteve@bvc.edu 8 Article - French Rap juonsteve@bvc.edu 9 Lyrics - I Get Wrecked Tim Dog & KRS-One 10 Closing SECTION TWO -- 2 The C.O.R.E. creed We at C.O.R.E. support underground hip-hop (none of that crossover bullshucks). That means we also support the 1st Amendment and the right to uncensored music. I'm audi 5 to my doghouse! "I got more rhymes than Madonna gets dick" KRS-One : I Get Wreck Asalaam Alaikum from MC Flash X SECTION THREE -- 3 Advertisement Rap is an Art -- David J. It's on. It's never been on like this, either. This time, Blue Riddle is coming as correct as they come. Yours truly, David J., has just made BRP a legitimate business venture right here in this non-hip hop town of Bloomington, Indiana. I've got the license, I've got the tax numbers, and I've even got an account with the full name "Blue Riddle Productions" on it. This is the first time I've really had the guts to pull something together like this, and I wish I had done it sooner -- like when I had more money. I know some of you have been waiting a looooong time for me to finally put together some form of the tracks I've done (i.e. "Rap Is An Art/Turn Up The Microphone") on hard copy to send out to everyone. Well, this time I'm going to do it. I'm going into a recording studio next weekend to put the three songs I've got together so far (the two above and "Checkmate") on a DAT and sending it out to get the tapes made up. The tape will feature all three songs as vocal mixes (no instrumental or acappella this time, sorry), and will be sent out as soon as I have the ducats to do it. Unfortunately, this is where I need everyone's help. I only have $200 in the BRP bank, half of which is going toward the studio time, the other half covering only a small portion of what will pay for the tapes. It's a 1000-tape package for approximately $900-$950, which pretty much includes everything. I would go with the vinyl, but 12" are way to expensive and cumbersome to mail out to people. Also, I'm trying to do a fair amount of business here in Bloomington as well (that is, if the tapes arrive in time), and I don't want to limit the number of potential customers to simply those with turntables -- the sad reality of a CD-driven society. This is where I need everyone's help. What I plan to do here is to raise the money to buy these tapes by selling the tapes in advance to everyone out there on the computer underground. Those of you who help out with a contribution to my little underground crusade will be getting your copy of "The Rap Is An Art EP" in the mail once the copies are finished and ready to go. This is no ruse here, folks. This is a plea for money that would make PBS jealous, as well as a chance to check out the flavor of a new hip hop organization looking to get its own in 1993. If you would like to help me out and purchase a tape in advance, here's the 411: On a 3x5 notecard, write your name, postal mailing address and e-mail address (if you have one). Make out a check or money order, made out to Blue Riddle Productions, for one of the following amounts: - Continental U.S.: $4.00 ($3 for the tape plus $1 postage & handling) - Continental Americas: $5.00 ($3 for the tape plus extra postage) - All other countries: $6.00 ($3 for the tape plus the airmail postage) Send all of this to the following address: Blue Riddle Productions 404 Northlane Drive Bloomington, IN 47404 If you just want to meet me somewhere in B-ton and just pay for the tape, e-mail me and let me know. I'll be compiling a list of people to which I will send the tapes based on the notecards I receive in the mail. For those of you who have not heard the soundfiles of the songs on the EP at the Sound Library I was supporting a while back, e-mail me and I'll get you some instructions on how to access them. I'm really counting on as many of you guys as I can to get this puppy off the ground. With your help, Blue Riddle Productions can be more than just a thoughtful tax write-off, but a quality underground producer of hip hop. Thanks for your time and your support. Because once again, it's on... SECTION FOUR -- 4 Rolling Stone 3/18/93 p.27 (Reprinted w/ no permission) (This and Section 5 go out to my homey MC... I hooked it up dis time!) "Crooked Officer," a song from the Geto Boys' upcoming album, Til Death Do Us Part, should get the group some attention. Sample lyrics: Try and pull me over on a dark road But I'll be damned if I don't grab my nine And unload until every blue shirt turns red You heard what I said I want all you crooked motherfuckers dead So you better start picking out your coffin, sir Because I'm coming after your ass ...written by Michael Goldberg... SECTION FIVE -- 5 Rolling Stone 4/1/93 p.51-52 (Reprinted w/ no permission) (This review in no way reflects my views... I didn't think the album was this good, but you all know that from my Chumpies post) 'Home Invasion', Ice-T **** out of ***** Dead cops litter the nineteen tracks on 'Home Invasion' -- just in case you thought that in the wake of his split from Time Warner, Ice-T was backing down. Released on his own label [Rhyme Syndicate Records] and distributed by Priority Records, the album is a furious declaration of independence; as he says, "We always knew it was gonna come to this point sooner or later." The mood is frank, realistic and uncompromising, born of the cold knowldege that as Run-D.M.C. put it years ago, "It's like that/And that's the way it is." "I own my own label, put my own shit out," Ice raps on "It's On," Home Invasion's first song, "so no one tells me what the fuck to talk about." "It's On" was a last-minute addition to Home Invasion. A commentary on Ice's grim, determined frame of mind after the "Cop Killer" debacle, it's one of the most arresting tracks he's ever recorded. Over an itchy guitar figure, an eerie keyboard sample and relentless gunfire, Ice tears off stacatto lines, insisting that -- 'You're best to let me rap Ice back on the streets? You don't want that Cause I'll break ill And you'll really have to body-count the cops I'll kill It's on.' The voice of "It's On" is the voice of undeniable experience, and for all its topical immediacy and outrageous gangbanging, Home Invasion is a curiously mature work, the sort of album you could make only after fully establishing a succesful, multifaceted career. Having penetrated deep into the white community, become a movie star and ventured into thrash rock with his band Body Count, Ice-T is now making a back-to-basics roots move, issuing a call to "real motherfuckers" of whatever color. Its bass tracks cranked up far into the red zone, Home Invasion is made to boom out of Jeeps and blasters, to solidify Ice's street cred, to crush any doubters among the hard-core. Prominent among Ice-T's targets are that noted defender of corporate morality Charlton Heston ("I might cut his head off") and rappers who cross over to pop. Reporters who criticize him are gleefully blow away - should journalists start harrassing Priority's executives? And perhaps most significant of all, on "Watch the Ice Break," upstart rappers nipping at Ice-T's heels get a stern history lesson: 'In case you forgot, I invented this gangsta shit You wanna step to me, new jack? Walk Come back in five LPs, then we can talk You're just new, kid -- you got a hit out In interviews you talk a lot of shit out You got paid, you really made out You went broke when your one jam played out.' Beyond conventional rap boasting, Ice-T seems to understand that he has earned the right to look past the streets and take himself as the subject, which he does to chilling effect on "That's How I'm Livin'." A piano drones, a flute phrase drops, and a bone-dry percussion patters beats hypnotically as Ice-T intones his life story in virtual spoken-word style. The tale is tense and affecting -- 'I speak on this with hesitation Even though we're past the statute of limitations' -- as introspective and personal a track as rap has ever seen. Unfortunately, not everything on Home Invasion rises to this level -- and at close to eighty minutes, it would have been astounding if the album had maintained that standard. On "Pimp Behind the Wheels," Ice-T takes over the turntables and pass the mike to his DJ, Evil E, for a track that's fun but inessential. Ice also gives over the nearly five minutes of "Funky Gribsta" to Grib, a fourteen year-old female rapper; her caterwauling is unlistenable. And Brother Marquis from the 2 Live Crew shows up for the pointless, if guiltily pleasurable, bitch catalog, "99 Problems." Home Invasion goes out on a note of exterme strength, though. On "Message to the Soldier," and atmospheric midtempo track spiked by a jazzy saxophone sample, Ice-T locls a first-rate definition of hard-core rap and its cultural meaning: 'But rap hit the streets Black rage amplified over dope beats Now they wanna shut us down And they don't fuck around Check the history books, son Black leaders die young They tell us that out words are scary They're revolutionary.' Ice-T knows that -- to use his phrase -- he's "trapped in a paradox." If he hadn't attracted a large audience among young whites, he would still be a Warner Brothers recording artist -- even though his potential to pull that audience is what got him on the label in the first place. To his credit, he hasn't distanced himself from those fans -- in fact, he's embraced them. Home Invasion's title track describes this original gangsta's crime as stealing America's children, "so they know the noise you talk is lies." As militant as Home Invasion is, as fully as it is the product of an artist under siege, it is still driven by an imagined ideal of racial harmony. Track after track -- "Home Invasion", "Gotta Lotta Love" and, despite its title, "Racewar" -- asserts that. It's a harmony in which people are judged not by their color but by their willingness to treat others with respect. That's the vision on which America claims to have been founded but that it never has come close to acheiving. It's also what makes Time Warner's refusal to stand behind Ice-T so shamneful and what makes his work so admirable and important. SECTION SIX -- 6 Review: Da Lench Mob -- Guerillas in tha Mist By LX Rating: *** out of ***** Summary: Very Ice Cube-esque, very racist, with trck quality ranging from downright weak to dope enough to have me hittin' rewind all afternoon. Capital Punishment in America: A nice opening documentary groove describing public executions, capital punishment and racist crimes. Buck tha Devil: This song sounds like Ice Cube all the way- the flow, the beat the lyrics. A racist song, with fair rhyming in it. Nothing to wet your pants over. Lost in tha System: Nice track -- dissin' the police, judicial system, the government. The beat almost sounds like something by Public Enemy. J-Dee comes off real smooth on this. You and Your Heroes: Phat beat, Shorty doesn't flow very well in this one, neither does J-Dee. The lyrics are rather racist, but it's also very unintelligent racist complaining compared to something like Escape From Babylon, by Paris. The beat is really the only strong part of this song. All on my Nut Sac: A groove that features Ice Cube, practically singing. Again, an unintelligent track simply that follows an argument between two people -- Ice Cube and J-Dee. The beat is a little annoying, and the backup singers wacken it more. With the exception of the best line on the whole album, "A tisket, a tasket now look who's in the casket, I knew I'd get your ass one day, you scantless bastard," it's not a great track. Guerillas in tha Mist: Let's just say that this is the reason I chose to review this album, better yet, this is the reason I listen to hip-hop. The dopest track on the album by light-years. Sure it's just brag-rap, but the crazy phat beat and flow that cuts closer than Gilette could ever makes up for the lack of political content. The whole crew appears on this one -- Ice Cube, J-Dee, Shorty and T-Bone, all coming correct. Damn. Lench Mob Also in tha Group: Just an instrumental sample-fest made to take up space on the album. Nothin' exceptional in the least bit. Ain't Got No Class: B-Real appears on this but doesn't really do anything, just repeat the same thing over and over: "Ain't got no class," in his nasal voice. Good message in the song, but wack flow and beat. Freedom Got an A.K.: The beat is ok, the lyrical content is that of an immature nine- year-old with an obsession with guns, the flow is average. Need I say more? Ankle Blues: A real phat groove with slightly above average flow, but nice content. A lot of the swearing is unnecessary, the beat overuses the sustaining vibes, but a smooth track. Who Ya Gonna Shoot Wit' Dat: The flow is real nice, the lyric is average, and the beat is dope at first, but annoyingly repetitive after a while. Mature message, immature lyric. Lord Have Mercy: Is it just me or was this on, "Please Don't Hurt 'Em, Hammer?" Good message, but shit flow, shit lyric, shit beat. Inside tha Head of a Black Man: Another instrumental with the same beat as Capital Punishment. Some nice samples, but they overdid they screaming a little much. Section 7 -- Seven Review: Geto Boys -- Til Death Do Us Part By MC Flash X Review scale : 6. Phat - Ten years from now this shit'll still be so dope! 5. Funky - Ownership is the difference between a mack and a mark 4. Fine - If your pockets are fat get it, but don't panic if you don't 3. Fair - It has some potential hits, and at least it doesn't stink 2. Flat - Somebody explain to me why this person even tried?! 1. Flunk - The ultimate diss... PM Dawn sounded better This LP gets a very definite Funky rating. The Geto Boys seem to keep getting funkier, more political, and more relevant. Proof of which is the opening track, 'Intro', which features a funky guitar riff and the voice of the Rap-a-Lot president, known on this track as 'Little J'. Very rapumentary, with no flow whatevah, but still very dope. 'Yeah this Little J and the Geto Boys in this mother once again. And we kicked the door in just like I told ya we would in '91 and '92. But you know there's a lot of people mad about our success. Such as the D.E.A., I.R.S., And other wicked people, in high places.' Little J kicks the hard and true reality, and his references to the D.E.A. are on target, especially when I found out what he meant by seeing how he got set-up in the new issue of The Source. But anyway, on to the first song, 'G.E.T.O.' This song kicks it hard and wicked like you know the Boys can do it, but it should've been named 'Here It Comes Fool' 'Now here comes motherfucker die-hard to the end Mr. Mr. Scarface, not your ordinary dope man On the farilla my nigga, I'ma born killer Lettin my nuts hang, and I gives a fuck if ya big...' As usual, Scarface rips the shit out the frame, with his dope gangstaism. He even gives Willie D props. But he's not soloing on this cut... Big Mike and Bushwick Bill rip the shit up too. Big Mike -- 'G plus E plus T plus O, Geto Boys run shit In ninety-three but you don't hear me though Huh, breakin off niggaz who bother to Fuck around with Texas, thinkin we ain't nothin but barbecue' And Bushwick -- 'Kickin that G shit Ever-So-Cleer 5th Ward steady coming hard every fuckin year' Pure ghetto dope. You might like the next song, 'It Ain't Shit', but I thought it was fairly average. Gets a fine at best 'Cause I remember back when the nigga had green Seeing him at the pipes now the man's just a dope fiend' Just a tale of ghetto reality, over a beat that doesn't work very well. Spice 1's 'Welcome to the Ghetto' was better. But this is one of the few weak spots... it is immediately set off by the intense 'Crooked Officer' Since the reprinted Rolling Stone article had the lyrics from this song, ther isn't much need to elaborate on that point. Suffice it to say that this song is 'Phat', the phattest cut on the LP. Next up is 'No Nuts No Glory', a chance for Big Mike to shine on his own. '(Big Mike how ya livin) I've been sellin out the same dope house since the age of sixteen Shufflin crack like cards to these drugged out dope fiends Rock after motherfuckin rock, seein cop after motherfuckin cop on the block.' A very dope track, with Big Mike slow smoothed out pimp flow adding to the track and making it shine. B.M. takes no shorts, he just tells it like it is. Then comes 'Six Feet Deep', another 'Dead Homiez/Lord Have Mercy' type track. It works very well on this cut, with some mourning wailful guitar samples and a smooth, reminesceful beat. What can I say? Three 'phat' cuts all inna row. 'Especially my boys who passed away, back in ninety-two Best believe that all the boys in the hoods got love for you Wherever we go, wherever we be, we be thinkin Of how we hung in the clubs smokin and drinkin' Very heartfelt raps by all the members, no bullshit R&B crossover on this one. The next track is a complete switch-up though. 'Murder Avenue' kicks some tales of bloody revenge on those who stood in the way of the Geto Boys, courtesy of Bushwick Bill. 'Did you know that a premature ejaculation is an imcomplete thought? That means you have an incomplete nut... Pretty as a picture, her name was Rosie Had to kill the bitch cause she was gettin too fuckin nosy A school ho, she attended U of H A law student, who was lookin for a fuckin case' Why spoil it? Find out for yourself why Bushwick says, 'This track was inspired by Jeffrey Dahmer... you know the drama.' Definetly funky, if not gruesomely so. At leat he doesn't say he's Chuckie at any point in the song. Now flip the tape and watch Scarface flip the script onna song called 'Raise Up', which once again was misnamed... it should've been 'Raise Up Bitch'. 'The bigger the nigga, the bigger the cap The bigger the bullet, the bigger the fuckin gat So step up with that ho shit And i'ma empty the whole clip' The track features dope shifts of pitch by the instrumental mid verse and a funky awesome bassline. For whatever reason the Geto Boys can't stop breakin off hits... this makes it four inna row. And 'Murder After Midnight' keeps it rolling right on to five. 'Niggaz bustin caps on a Sunday I'm ridin through the punk with my white seats bloody Thinkin to myself, what the fuck is this I grab my motherfuckin shit, load the clip, and then I git The extra hollow points out the box in the back seat I can't believe these motherfuckers tried to X me' Not to say that Willie D wasn't good, but Big Mike more than takes his place and increases the lyrical and ferocious power of the Boys. This song proves it, and the other Boys get smooth and wicked as well. The streak finally ends with 'Straight Gangstatism'. This tape might have pulled a 6 outta 6, but this is one of those songs that bug the hell outta me. A 'Fair' cut, well below the Geto Boys average. I refuse to even quote from it, except to say that the chorus features someone saying 'Really doe' a hundred fuckin million times in the world's most annoying blunted voice. But 'Cereal Killer' brings it right back to that 'Other Level'. Listening to this song will remind you of LL Cool J's 'Milky Cereal'. I'm almost surprised they didn't sample it. Actually it sounds like a cross between that and 'Gangsta Fairytale'. 'Once upon a time at the Honeycomb hideout Sugar Bear and Mikey set alone, gettin fried out Mikey walked in with this nigga named Rice Grain Pulled out a buck, and conjured up a dice game...' Check it out... it is very metaphorically phat, and another 'Phat' cut. The next one is another song I refuse to quote, 'This Dick's For You'. It soundz like R&B except the Boys ruff it up a little... another only 'Fair' cut which kills the chance for calling this tape awesome from beginning to end. 'Street Life' should be familiar to all, except it is hooked up with a different track than the one used in 'South Central'. Scarface kicks ghetto reality again, and it works well, but I like the original track better. The voice talking over the chorus also detracts, rather than improving it. 'Never knew no better cause my mommy never taught me Goin out to get the shit that mommy never bought me Only ten years old and I can't stay away from trouble But you don't give a fuck cause you ain't never had to sruggle' I would call it a 'Fine' cut, but it can't compare with the awesomly funky posse cut 'Bring It On' The whole Rap-A-Lot family gets large on this one. Here's a sample of one of my favorite verses, Ganksta Nip's psycho rap. 'A weed smokin motherfucker, plus I kick doobies I'm the one who told that nigga to go insane and act loonie Ganksta Nip, is fuckin ya daughter G I wake up every morning screaming SOMEBODY SLAUGHTER ME Step in my path, your ass is void Cause I'm a aerodynamic satanic schizophrenic...' Et cetera, and then Little J kicks the 'Outro' over the same beat. This a a very good tape. Even if you aren't a fan of the Geto Boys, you would like this tape... it has something for everybody, and showcases the diversity and funkiness of the Geto Boys. Pick it up wid da quickness! Section 8 -- Eight Article : Alors, Homeboys Copied from Request, April '93, p.8, with no permission (This one goes out with a shot to Yvan! Word up!) Rap music is not another flashy American export. It has slowly infiltrated French culture through the surburban Saint Ouen or Clignacourt in the north of Paris. The bourgeoisie avoid them as their American counterparts do the Bronx and South Central. These are the French ghettos, the mean streets, where the members of the rap group Orginal M.C. were born. Sofaine Ghaba (Master K), Fabrice Atchinak (Turn B), Willy Delbe (Chilly Purple Willie), and Adamson Faye (A.D.A.M.S.) came to New York to get back to rap's roots. They are shopping for an American label and just plain shopping, single-handedly saving the U.S. garment industry. And they love to model their new clothes because no one pays them any mind. "In France", they say, "the police hassle you if you're dressed like a rapper." Rap music isn't taken seriously in homogenous France. The older generation finds the rap spirit threatening; they don't like their young people criticizing the country. But Ghaba is merely putting pictures on a wall. Drugs, racism, unemploymeny, and hypocritical politicians aren't solely American problems. Original M.C. confronts such issues with a positive message and Gallic irony. Their sound reflects the France of the 21st century, a melting pot of peopls and ideas. Edith Piaf isn't samples; instead one hears the strains of African, Arabnic, and Oriental music, with snatches of John Coltrane and Miles Davis, reminding us of another American musical export that sneaked into French civilaztion through the ports of Marseilles and the roughneck suburbs of Paris. Section 9 -- Nine Lyrics -- I Get Wreck, by Tim Dog and KRS-One (This goes out wid a shout to Hotsauce, and to T-Dub who hooked me up!) Intro: KRS One : Pop pop pop pop! KRS One : Go uptown, go uptown, go uptown, go uptown (in the background) (repeats while Tim Dog is speaking) Tim Dog : Yeahhhh, ha hah, you have been warned The Boogie Down boys are gonna get ya KRS One : That's right boye, you are now jammin to the sounds of the Boogie Down Hit em like this, hoooooooo Chorus: Tim Dog (KRS-One in parenthesis) Yeah, yeah, yeah, can I get a yes (yes) Can I get another one, yes (yes) Do I get wreck and get respect (yes) Lyrically I can get wreck (yes), ha hah Well can I get a ho (ho) Can I get another one, ho (ho) Do I get wreck at any show (ho) Lyrically I got the flow (ho), there ya go Verse One: KRS-One What does KRS and Tim Dog have in common We both hate corny ass soft commercial rhymin' I don't sound like Phyllis Simon or the Wynans I rock Central Park but do not mistake me for Paul Simon I can't hear nothin but rap, do not force me I can't hear Fred Astaire, Cher, Tommy Dorsey you lost me Pure hip-hop rhymes beats I seek Singers dressed like rappers kickin' love songs you can keep Give me the boom bap when I kick my rap No need for background singers and dancers, fuck all that What you see you see, what you hear you hear When you cheer and you cheer, I'm every fresh MC's nightmare The instrumental is fundamentally essential When I practice I get sharp like a pencil But the pencil's made of oak, so don't provoke You'll get broke, whaddya take me for a joke? I'm radical, mathematical if I have static I'll Pick up the mic or automatic either way I won't have it I cover the whole gamut Mic I'll rag it leaving with your ass out like a faggot This is a losing battle. Your like cattle The sound of my name KRS makes your tail waggle Better yet you're a snake so it rattles I'll dice you up like an apple, smash you with a Snapple. I'm not fad, the one you wanna battle that bad Off the skin of your ass I'll make a shoulder bag I bring the blade all around By the time I'm done you'll be $2.99 a pound Verse Two: Tim Dog Coming from the butcher shop Fuck with KRS and the Dog and get chopped Chopped, say stopped, STOP! say stop, STOP! Listen to the hip-hop while others drip-drop Till they hit the tip-top now it's time to get props Wack MC's I just tax I'll eat tracks shit it out with Ex-Lax Bitch ass niggaz step aside Tenderoni rappers, means your homicide Toyin' non-believers, here's the genoside Shit aside, come inside, you're goin on a murder ride I'm energetical theoretical copastetical alphabetical Hypothetical yeah that is cool, no I'm not a fool Takin you to school, don't be late for school, fool I'm fuckin your girl while your ass in school Fool, wipe off the drool, cause I'm too cool I'm the man with lyrics that jam Kickin MC's in the face like Van Damme Shazam, hot damn, thank you ma'am Don't eat Spam or no types of ham You thought I fell off? You're smokin somethin You thought I was soft? You on dope or somethin You must be on a can of dope and dog food You actin real rude, don'tcha know I'm Tim Dog dude? So go ahead and flex, if you got next But when I get the mic I get wreck So come on, come on, come on, come on I'll eat that ass that's word is born Rarrrrrgh! Chorus: Tim Dog (KRS-One in parenthesis) Can I get a yes (yes) Can I get another one, yes (yes) Do I get wreck and get respect (yes) Are you the K the K the R the S (ohhh yes) Well can I get a ho (ho) Can I get another one, ho (ho) Do I get wreck at any show (ho) Lyrically I got the flow (ho), there ya go Verse Three: KRS-One Now don't say nuttin while I'm wreckin ya Causin hysteria been in more battles than America Rap messanger, comin in quick I pick up the mizick and watch em stagger Rip another verse and watch his body splatter Whether you like me or not don't matter, Kris is not a actor I'll burn your favorite rapper and leave him in stitches Weak bitches, real renegade rap rebels rip rhymes Ferociously, which one of these pussy MC's can go at me? So if you wish to play me like a farmer I get calmer, chop ya ass up like Jeffrey Dahmer My pyschopathic fantastic pathic puts you in a casket On top of that, you can get your ass kicked quick. Awww shit, I'm lyrically fit and physically built like a brick. And I got more rhymes than Madonna gets dick And I'm the lyrical lunatic, that flips all shit with the quickness Yo I get heated like cough menthalyptus now The microphone I must feel it I must touch it up Kris One and Tim Dog's come to fuck it up Evidentally I bust shots till the glock is empty No safety, pull the trigger tip don't try to chase me Down, chase the sound you must be buggin This is Boogie Down, Boogie Down, Boogie Down Boogie Down Boogie Down Produc-tions Jump around be the one is the function Tim Dog, why don't you show em a little somethin Verse Four : Tim Dog Baby baby um, maybe maybe um You better run, cause you know I have a gun Bang bang boogie, up jump the boogie Take that bullshit rap down the street A skippedy be bop be bop, Scooby Doo That bullshit's not me, that bullshit is you I come correct, get much respect Do some homina homina shit, and still get wreck Cause I'm the Dog, the muthafuckin Dog ya hear I'm the Dog, the muthafuckin Dog ya hear MC's come close but never could get near Cause I just smash, throw MC's through glass Take his cash, whip his ass, and do a yard dash So take your ass home, write a poem And when you get nice, use the god damn phone Cause I get buckwild, do some ole freestyle And beat ya down with the turnstile Doggie doggie bo boggie fanana fanna fo foggie Me mi mo moggie, doggie Rappers goin platinum doin this bullshit I do the same shit, and make a big hit Cause if you don't like my lyrical flow I gotta make dough, don'tcha know, ya little ho- Mo- sexual I bet you will Be on the dick if it turns into a hit But that type of shit is jumpin the fuck off So I do the same, now I'm comin off So don't get upset if you can't get lyrical respect Don't get mad, get wreck Closing : Tim Dog Yeahhh, this track has been dedicated, to real hip-hop The lyrics, peace to all the true hip-hop followers out there Peace to the Zulu Nation Peace to Willie D and the Boogie Down Production posse And peace to the South Bronx, peace! (echoes) Section 10 -- Ten Peace to all the readers of HardC.O.R.E., and keep on the lookout for bigger and brighter things in our future. Peace yo!

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