Flow On (New Symphony) (Explicit)

I grab the microphone and rock it, collect my dough and then I split

I'm too quick with my lips, come and jump up on the tip

Okay, okay, now stop, it was fun while it lasted

Now back up little man, or get that ass blasted

You talk about a battle, pssh, you big jackass

Why don't you just wear sinuses, kick my black ass

You call yourself an MC, come on, you must be kiddin'

(Yo, he tried to grab the mic) Ha-ha, no, he didn't

I'm nice, I'm known to get smooth like green velvet

They ask me what's so funky, I say damn, I can't help it

MC's try to step to me, but they're not legit

You think you're flowin' like the Funky Man? Shit

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Back off, punk, the vibes'll almost put fear in you niggas

I execute the astonishing with my rap trigger

'Cause I left bodies back in Texas like in a cemetery

And I'm ready to rip up shit like out of the ordinary

Like fuckin' it up, now man, it's daily on the wonderful scene

No, fuck that shit, I'm from the South, and from my rope you'll swing

So start believin' what they rappin' on the record, yo

They be like talkin' that mad shit when no one'll check it, so

I stay away when I can, I mean like fuck that shit

If I don't like you, yo, I'll walk up to you and tell you, bitch

See, that's the way that cowboys do, so act like you know

So call the traffic control to know which way to go

I fly that fuckin' head off like Continental

And mastered math, boom-bam like an Oriental

I made you into such a fuckin' ass, you caught the vapors

And now when you take a shit, you wipe your mouth with toilet paper

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Straight from the realm of my underground madness

My mouth is on some shit, now my lips need chapstick

With intros and intros only done by Lord Tug

Excuse me, you don't know us, but the Lord's a fuckin' bug

Even if there's no church on Sunday

Praise the Lord every day, not one day

Amen, amen, go 'head and get to it

(Praise the Lord) Yeah, you know how to do it

I got the skills that's packed in piles and stacks

And if you're wonderin', they're labeled rough raps

I give it up, or should I say I gave it?

So don't try to play me, 'cause I'm not the one to play with

I hit the skins in all types of fashion

Treat it like a sport and call the sport ass-crashin'

And hung the mic with the cord that had a short

And ripped it down with my mad train of thought

I'm overflown with skills, props, and P's

So when you hear that I rap, go on, do it all, please

Kick it, you're such a bad bro

If the Lords can't flow (What?), your mother can't flow

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Hey ma, hey man, can I get an amen?

Refract and bend, flip, trip like I was in gym

I got the feeling I'm ready to storm shit up

Warm it up, 'cause the form is blowin' up

Take you, take you, take you to a new type atmosphere

Don't even worry, 'cause you're almost there, dear

Let your right brain focus on the beat

And your left pick up the vocals on a different type frequency

Now you're ready for the test, now here we go

Don't get nervous, 'cause it's easy, for real though

I do my part as I rip, shop, and combine

For those who want work, I get up in you like a tampon

I know you like to hear that rated R rough shit

So I came equipped with the rhymes that don't slip

They keep comin' and comin' just like an orgasm

I feel gratification, station, when I'm grabbin'

A microphone, check one, check the two, the three

Check the S-A-H-dash and check the B

You probably thought a female couldn't flow as hard as this

Did I show and prove, or do you wanna hear this?

As I get props, spank and rip shops

Suckers get dropped, they can't fuck with the hip-hop

And how about I go reggae on this part of the rhyme

By my crutch, stop the romp, and then whine, whine, whine

Now I'm back to my ill flow

You think of steppin' to this? Shit, that's a no-no

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, flow

Flow, flow, flow

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow, on and on and on and

Flow, flow

Flow, flow, on and on and on and