[Intro: Godfather Don]
Yeah
[Verse 1: Godfather Don]
Bust a brain storm, never in the same form
It's time to rip, so I flip and remain strong
Through all the phases, and various stages
As scary as rage is, I always have pages full of
Dope rhymes that I rip like Charmin
MC's I'm bombin', still I remain calm and
Cool and collected, the beat is my home here
So rappers stand here as I present a stone clear
Picture, I painted MC's and tainted
Your bitch fainted from puttin' my dick in her mouth, now ain't it
Funky? But I don't swell I just excel
And you can touch this, so I don't sell
I'm not a mental slave in the devil game
So I reach the streets like air and never sing
A voice of gold, but a heart that's hard still
Soul of the art, feel part of the dark appeal
MC's I drill 'em, then I instill hymns
Of war, let 'em know I'm raw before I kill 'em
Give 'em they last rites, the hole in they ass tight
Like Saddam Hussein, I'm insane in a rap fight
Words eject like shells from a AK
They riddle the body of a fake snake who says they
Could tear the best apart, they just fessin' hard
The Don don't deal with children of a lesser god
And if you're a slave to the beast
I forget the rap, then I jack in your DC's
Converted to feces, for maggots to nibble on
Manure for plant life, or dregs to dribble on
I stick on and on like a color form
So who's ever steppin' up, you better know I
[Refrain]
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[Verse 2: Godfather Don]
Your tongue blisters when I enlist a
Style that's laced with poisonous mixtures
Heavier than PCP, so you stay glued
To the scene like a fiend for a Quaalude
There's no antidote, at last the pain swells
From your ears, then mirrored to your brain cells
Your eyes collapse then, you let the mic go
You tried to shed light, but it wasn't right though
So now allow me to front properly
The crowd is full of stunts, full on props'll be
Mine to collect, I make 'em so wet
They start to pour like a bottle of Moët
The stage is the killer feel, I'm playin the murderer
I'm puttin the rest all the vets who ain't heard of the
D-O-N, the purveyor and slayer of players
I'm extra strength, like Bayer
Give 'em hell, more hell than a rock show
MCs suicides up, 'cause I drop loads
Of lyrics on paper, and then I make the
B-E-A-T drop like beta
So who in the hell wanna go toe-to-toe with me?
Yo, Kev, cut 'em up, let 'em know it's the
Original, can I get a few to put their hands together
For the man that severs? And of course, I'm clever!
And whatever the outcome
I doubt some crumb in a rap race'll outrun
The lyrical master, rhyme professor, full of disaster
Break your face like plaster
So who's the ass that dissed the elite
Microphone that's full of the bombs I recite
Words'll rape and pillage a whole village
Don't even try to get none, 'cause I
[Refrain]
(Just begun)
(Just begun)
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(Just begun) 'Cause I
(Just begun)
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(Just begun) Yeah
(Just begun) Aight
[Verse 3: Godfather Don]
I kill at will with the steel, that's the microphone
I'm chokin' your boy with the cord, now get high along
'Cause he got risky, and tried to gamble a
Weak ass set on a vet mic handler
My skills are unmatched, the writin' techniques
What other brother you know writes, sings, and wrecks beats?
And I get down like a soul man
And drop the flavor like Keith on a slow jam
Wrists are slit from the shit that I rip with
So much force that a horse couldn't kick this
I drop the grammar, but not like Hammer
I'd rather kick the frammer-lamma-lamma-lamma-lamma, and a
Beat that treats the elite one kingly
So bring me a deep one
Check Atlantic, the stacks are capital
Or Pyramid Records, on 7th Avenue
The rhymes are lyrical, the beats are spiritual
Compared with mine, your shit's satirical
A comedy of errors, 'cause the terror's near, son
And I
[Chorus]
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