Intro/Chorus:      As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning   (This ain't no) street sermon, these niggas are determined   *Repeat*      Verse 1:Where      I flow like CD's in the deck   Moosh fools in the face that lack respect   Protect ya arm, pitch from the funk   I deodirise the musty, ya rhymes are crusty, you can't bust G   So leave me alone I'm in the zone   Walkin the streets on my own, nigga get blown   Some niggas say that nigga Where is gone   But I'm low in the cut and gotta microphone   Are you gone bust or play bones?   You motherfuckin clone, get off that nigga's style and get'cha own   It's Miscellane and it's on again   For the niggas that slept, they shoulda stayed in step   And kept ya big fuckin mouth shut      Chorus      Verse 2:Where      I woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back ache   Advil, Tylenol, Peptol, slept so long realised my world is wrong   My world is gone like disco   Blowin up Cisco and in my Cammo   Standin in back of me was my soul   Thinking of the easiest way to get a bank roll   Knowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifold   A tar can of hos to lubricate my system quick   Shaky bitches off the dick   Cos she got a vice grip on the flow from my lips   I'm slow but equipped with the proper tools   Show me the one talkin shit so I can drop a fool   I'm out to glow a nigga roll if he think he Mr CREAM   Come back on the scene and smoke a phillie, G   I really dream of gettin mine now let me tell you what's silly   Me, buckin with my team is murder one   I heard a gun bustin shots (SHOTS!), down the block (BLOCK!)   I guess a nigga gettin what he got (GOT!)   Shit is heavy like a medicine ball and broke niggas to smoke niggas   I'll fuck one for y'all, they made ya last phone call   To a trick that didn't even care   Cos she was gettin fucked somewhere, you're stuck in there   Now you wanna bust, nigga, now you wanna kill, nigga (Nigga)   Nigga how ya feel? (Nigga)   You can't try to be real (You can't try to be real)   Shit is for real      Chorus      Verse 3:Where      I'm cooler than most, but I got the shorter temper   And I'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goes   Let's take it back to the first side   When you was a new jack and jockin my new track   But you was wrong, didn't know about the big long   Head-strong, nicknamed Dav from off the school yard   Witta teenage group I'm turnin loots to tracks   Me and my niggas like (These tracks are laced with bomb weed and tight   lyrics)   You wanna know what the hos used to do   When me and my crew came bustin through   All sorts of blushins brew   (A neighbourhood find, a gift too swift, Miscellane is the crew)   Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blue   This is for the bitches and niggas that wanna front   I smoke on, I broke on till I spoke on   Miscellane packin shows like Farrakhan   Where is on another level with two niggas that's on the same plateau   Now that's three times your tightest flow   And three times ya tightest track, three times your fattest sack   Three times is clever (BUCK!)      Chorus x 2      Outro:      Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the belt   Barely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurt   To art in hell, where the next man dwells   The place with stankin pussy and crack rock dwells