True and Livin'

You know the plan, gee, I rip any mic you hand me

I been down, this ain't no muthafuckin Brandy

It's Lord Finesse, yeah, you know it

It's that funky type poet that get loose like aerobics

You know I be slammin suckers

When I'm not on the mic, I'm makin more moves than a dance instructor

I have no passion for rhymers

Nowadays I come with more styles than fashion designers

Rappers be cold frontin

They like Forrest Gump (Why?) Them niggas don't know nothin

So watch how I hit em

In '95 and beyond Lord Finesse is true and livin

I don't have to pop tools to stop crews or mop fools

I play it cool and smooth, and like drop jewels

I get props and never fail, hops

The stuff I'm deliverin you can't get in your mailbox

I won't sink the way my brain thinks

When it comes to crews, I'm connected like a chain link

I'm out to make large figures

You could be a casino dealer, and still couldn't pull my fuckin card, nigga

I'm so bad with the vocab

That's only part of it, now let me school you on the whole half

I'm no stranger, more like danger

Like playin russian roulette with 5 bullets in the chamber

I get more props, I'm raw, hops

With the sure shot that's guaranteed to make all you girls' drawers drop

So peep my funk style of rhythm

Word life, kid, I'm true and livin

Now it's the funkyman, and niggas can't see me

When I grab the mic you better play the wall like graffiti

Cause whether fast or somethin slow

I'm bad like Michael Jackson, only thing is, I'm fuckin, though

Hey Yo, so just save it

I'm one of the funkiest, plus the underground favorite

That got astoundin rhymes

That'll make your grandmoms get up when I decide to get down for mines

I make your whole platoon nervous

Tryin to get live, I bring it to that ass like fuckin room service

What you gonna do when I hunt you down

You could have a freak on a Ferris wheel, you still couldn't fuck around

This is how it goes when Finesse raps