featuring Mista Grimm



(What goes up

Must come down > Biz Markie )



[ VERSE 1 ]

MC's you need deeper concentration

Cause wack rhymes and crews lead to non profit organizations

I attack like anxiety with the variety

>From the western society baby

Seeing is believing but looks can be deceiving

You might think you're coming with it nigga but you're leaving

With lyrics I'm conceiving

Morning, afternoon and evening

You can't wait

My shit's special like a .38

(You got a problem?)

I smoke some boo boo, now I'm spaced out like astrology

Getting in MC's asses like proctology

It's seems that everybody's going through a phase

Thinkin they can bust, but they're weak like 7 days

All 12 months for every ounce I get 12 blunts

Get the munchies, eat up 12 MC's at once

Thinkin that they wasn't, when they know that they was

The one with the style young, they still got the peachfuzz



(What goes up

Must come down)

(What goes up...)

(MC's) (...must come down)



[ VERSE 2 ]

When I get stoned like Fred Flint I begin

To smoke MC's like Marian, bury them

Cause most be comin unnatural like a cesarean

I wish my rhymes were meat and MC's were vegetarians

Cause when it comes to biting, I don't condone it

Besides, you couldn't manage my style if you owned it

I got gruesome rhymes in my mind

And they'll jump on a beat

Infect it when the rhyme is injected

Metaphors are connected

Booty lyrics are deflected

And the mic is intercepted

Cause I never ever leave it neglected

I'm tryina hold my position

What kind of man would I be if my rhymes weren't in mint condition

They say "(Hey) Grimm's nowhere to be found"

But they catch me on camera beatin MC's down

Always tryin to ponder what I'm pondering

They need to find theyself, because they're somewhere lost and wandering



(What goes up

Must come down)

(What goes up...)

(MC's) (...must come down)



[ VERSE 3 ]

As we mix a little lyric and track

Like coke and cognac

Premium blend

You're gonna need a driver, designated friend

Cause I intend to seep in your system

Hit hard, make MC's change agenda

Disregard their rhymes, return to sender

I got soul like Dr. Scholl eatin a bowl of neckbones

I like my shit loud enough to where it blows your headphones

If you hear any noise, it's just me and the boys makin hits

Assassination other crews, posses, and clicks

The main thing's to get down and say my peace

Whoever disrespects, I'm Rushen like Patrice

I'll never cease with the funky, funky vocals and beats

Cause we need more rappers around flauntin new styles and speaks

I know we're amped to get the money, cause we need it

But if your lyrics ain't tight, the whole purpose is defeated

You can't shine and be on top with the wack sound

It's time to watch all the burnt out stars hit the ground

Writer : JORDAN, MARK S/TARWICK, ROJAI
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing