Frequency

This is just a test of the frequency/

You can be a hood without delinquency/

Cause I be the rhyme and the rhyme be me/

Whatever I be the rhyme be.

V1

I break the average nigga down, just like decomposition/

On a mission to chart the art of rhyming way beyond traditions/

Equally, you’ll find my vision’s gone beyond the 20/20/

Had enough of these niggas showin’ me just who be on the money/

I catch phrases out of the blue like touchdown throws to wide recievers,

So, “Hail Mary”, But you couldn’t “Run with me” if you were Gail Deavers/

I got that monotone lyric for your recievers/

Don’t don’t deceive us, cause we don’t believe in non-believers/

My style is more golden than that of a child who owns retrievers/

I shine like I’m David Helfgott, Searching for wealth, not solely/

But baby, “Do Ya Rilly Kno What’s going on?”/

I be that tech president that you Elec(t) like TRON/

I base data on databases, so it’s too complicated to trace this/

And with no flava you gotta face it, You’re tasteless/

The way that I embrace this is like huggin’ a cripple/

Invisible individuals get scratched like they’re pickles/

I physically tickle your mind, like water that trickles over your nipples/

I drip, cause lyrically I keep it kinky/

Hookers wanna drink me, but they can’t handle my tricks/

Cause I’ve been known for putting chip-clips on my bitches’ tits/

It hits the year 2K, and it’s a whole different story/

Don’t need will smith to talk about Miami for me/

Cause If I got a positive vibe, and a quote from a negative source/

Saying my Rap Sheet was Right On!, like what I’d do to the bus on my tours/

For sure I’m not a tourist, I’m a purist/

Came into the land of rhyme, sanded the hourglass and I cuffed the hands of time/

To arrest your interest and express with mine/

Niggas can check me out with ten items or less, while you regress and stand in line/

They play the way like pantomimes, I only touch ‘em with mitts/

I tell ‘em, “Shut the fuck up!”, and yo, they can’t say shit/

I’m giving verbal facelifts to those with traces of painted faces/

So, I’ma tell you what the case is.

Chorus

V2

So, when it comes to the written rhyme, the ink effects are diabolical/

Off the top of the dome like George Jefferson’s hair follicles/

!?What?!, You put the ass in astronomical/

Any attempt by you to even make a def jam could pass for comical/

More psychological than movie thrillers, boxing niggas like Helena in Manila/

Extract ‘em like vanilla/ For real, I never had a dope name to profess/

But relied on my skill when it came to the test/

I’m blessed in the trade of my native expression/

If late is my time, then my rhyme be inte-resting/

I question the power of a star/

Cause kids be singing “love live the king”, like my name was Uncle Scar/

So, “Can you feel the buzz tonight?”

I never mean it in a blunt way, cause some say that they’re the flyest when the drums play/

They’re bound to go down just like morale on hump day/

Cause once they front, an omen will hunt they’re ass down in my name/

Cause I box out them niggas that’s surrounding my game/

In any way shape or form/

I did circles on those who weren’t breaking the norm/

And I’m the first to try angles that you ain’t figured before/

You’ve forged on more lines than my written signature/

And my shit’ll be hitting for sure upon the canvas/

I planned this tonight so you might understand this.

Chorus