homemusiclyrics

Safety First

Underscore [cover image]

From “Underscore”
Written by: Tonedeff & Session
Produced by: Tonedeff
©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), El Beyaco Malo (ASCAP)

CHORUS
Slow ya roll, potna! Just! Hold Your horses/
‘For you go starting mess, Know your role, bitch/
Tonedeff’s, your papa! Sesh owns y’all whole s hit/
Remember that you may get hurt. Safety First.

V1 – TONEDEFF
When I start to strike with thoughts that you ain’t have the heart to write/
The following scars are sponsored by Spicasso & The Archetype/
Your squad is not as nice as ours is, we amount to twice the artists/
Y’all just get discounted as often as prices down at Target/
I ain’t have to split profits to get a bid on the market/
I just spit for the art and word caught on quicker than SARS did/
Start picking your coffin; Your chick keeps a dick in her pocket,
And commands that you remove your shoes before licking the carpet.

V1B – SESSION
It’s Session, Spicasso I walk on the third rail/
Spark till I turn pale wit narcs on the herb trail/
You only served jail for ya failed crimes/
My dick is one mile, I use it for a sundial, it’s how I tell time/
Stale rhymes like yours dont deserve to be quoted/
With a flow you can not see [Nazi] like someone in Germany wrote it/
Till then to home ya limpin, shoot hands out/
Make ya lip stand out like you’re Homer Simpson.

Chorus

V2A – SESSION
Tonedeff, create grooves, everyday heat/
Break dudes when we play beats, and make moves like NBA Street/
QN5, you cant outbuy us, man dont try us/
We pan out fires, so just hand out flyers/
BITCH! you wack, even ya beats suckin bad/
I’ll tell you who the illest producer is, my fuckin dad!/
Puffin bags, still got stamina for slammin ya/
You say you was up north? Then you must’ve meant Canada.

V2B – TONEDEFF
It’s Bananas, Eh? Tonedeff & Session,
Are so fresh in essence, we both lent our scents to fill up cans of spray/
Endorsements through Bowflex and Mennen, You’re whole set’s fe-minine/
You throw fits like women. Push Kotex and bins of Vaginaid/
Go fetch an entrance for your next profession, in a coat check
or dressing room – Don’t mess with testing mics or think of flippin’ a beat/
If you ever get bigger than me, It isn’t a bitter defeat/
But did you get your receipt? Cause now, ‘pay your dues’ is more than a figure of speech!

Chorus

V3 – TONEDEFF
I’m a veritable monstrosity! Flip incomparable-parable bombs, constantly/
Possibly perrenial, plenty of flow ferocity/
Vocal velocity, againt any posse accosting me/
Not to be sonically swapped with quality attrocities/
Bitches are gossipy, Niggas exhibit hypocrisy/
Talkin’ seedy behind my back but give props to me optically/
Verses are sloppily constructed, Incompetant carpetry/
Sucked at monopoly – I switched cards to charge you a doctor’s fee/
Stopping the monotony is the prophecy I shot at the industry novelties
And punks that don’t put their heart in the artistry/
It’s hard to see our cultural freedom philosophies/
Get tossed to sea, for the cars you need, pretty sluts and the cost of weed/
As I rhyme, I see the scars recede, whenever they start to bleed/
Pressure’s promptly applied to the beat’s properties properly/
Proud of my soveriegnty, cause I’m baggin shit like colostomies/
If I gotta spell it out, you’d best to double the F and cross the T.

V3B – SESSION
The mic abuser, makin seven holes wit six shooters/
And make it seem like you dove face first into a juicer/
Before I think I close my eyes and access my computer/
Type the password and login Session as the user/
You loser, but I never sleep, I realize theres/
Always challengers, so my eyes stay open like I died scared/
We ride here, NY, you rep were you are not from/
Get dropped son, body stretched out like a dachshund/
I got some cash and hash man, pass grams/
And I cant be got, Im E. Honda with the fast hands/
Knuckles crash land, make ya nose runny/
And make ya side split like I said somethin funny/
Sonny, how that sound? Im that down/
We could box, but you’ll get beat half an hour before the last round/
Quick fast down, trash clown/
You couldnt put up ya dukes if our gloves were half pounds.

Chorus