Mr. Smith

Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith

Uh Mr Smith, it's the bomb y'knowhutI'msayin? Mr Smith

Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it out

I'm goin to the top leavin smoke in my trail

Bitch ass gangstas put that ass on sale

And even if I'm twice as expensive as the rest

when I go for dolo you ain't checkin for nuttin less

My strategy is splittin brain cavity's

It's ya majesty bringin you a tragedy

Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox

When it's time to get down, nigga I jam like a Glock

I bust thru all types of red tape and sue papes

Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate

I'm cuttin snakes thru the belly witta icepick

and scoopin hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips

It's the rebirth of murkin niggas once again

I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen

I'm breakin ribs til somethin gives

A nigga got to live and Mr Smith is power god, kid

Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up

Work ya thang baby, show em how to blow up

What? You wanna do what? You lack the vitality

originality, so face reality

I'm on some ole wild shit, ya niggas can't get wit

Matter of fact, mornin yawn and suck a dick

Nah hold up, the fuck is goin on?

All these cartoon character MC's gettin airborne

Takin off like a hot air balloon

Goin up up up, oh no kaboom

Bring your heroes down to ground zero

Shotty grippin ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro

I'm on some shit, throats is gettin shit

Scoopedin New Jacks and kick em in the *?fire bit?*

Tell them ole Jap niggas they need to go and stick it

cos when it comes to this rap shit I'm mad wicked

The grand sire bringin flavour to the whole game

Mr Smith is my motherfuckin name

To the bridge

Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth)

Talkin bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh

Talkin bout Mr Smith

Talkin bout Mr Smith

Talkin bout

Time's up, your rhyme's up, mix the lines up

I'm about to blow the spot up with that divine touch

I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic

Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic

Guan boy it's the champion Mr Smith

Your niggas couldn't raise up with a forklift

Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar

It's hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party

All your so-called flavour niggas is deaded

Your next step is where ya headed so don't forget it

Your rhymes is beat, your steelo's scarred to scrape

When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth

I get'cha open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray

Lethal compositions around your way

I'm the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith

Rippin ya ass out the frame with my verbal gift