Bud Mutha

(bad mutha)

[verse 1]

Turn up the radio, better yet the phonograph

And I'ma school the suckers who don't know the half

I'm not a legend, I'm real and actual

Bite my rhymes, I get mad and come after you

I don't front or pretend cause that's imaginary

I get funky with the use of vocabulary

I'm more deadlier than a bottle of cyanide

When I dig in my brain and say a fly rhyme

I might bust and say a little somethin

Get the party pumpin, yo, that ain't nothin

So don't bore me, I've been naughty

Even as a kid people said: "look at shorty"

Back in the days I had much attention

Speak of competition - man, listen

Even then I've coulda been a funky star

At the age of 12 I was rhymin on them monkey bars

A little kid with the art of poetry

Nice for my age, but nobody noticed me

Nowadays I tell it like it is

That makes my skill different from her or his

I sport my skills on a f.m. frequency

Lettin people know you better not sleep on me

I'm known as a smooth cool brother

A funky technician, call me a (bad mutha)

[verse 2]

I play mc's like a game of mario brothers

I hold my own, plus I can carry another's

Rhymes I make strong and watch em take form

On a sucker who steps out his face wrong

I'm the mc to fear and run from

Shockin so much you think I'm usin a stun gun

I hold the title cause I'm the cool champ

If rap was money you'd be rated as food stamp

You try to boast and toast, you go by what name?

You can't get with finesse, you're just jump change

You couldn't cut it even if you had a hack-saw

You're just a rap that I laid a track for

Cause records get mixed up, foes get ripped up

If a mic was a freak, I'd get my tip sucked

So girls, don't sleep, don't even doze off

I'm good with a mic, plus I'm good with my clothes off

And I'm no joke, far from a slow poke