MAD E

Guilty Simpson. M-E-D, Metaphor. Detroit, Oxnard, California. Peace to Madlib, the bad kid. Aight, Real spit like this. Yo, uh. Yo, yo. Me and my dogs put in work. Make tracks like a foot in dirt. This rap shit somethin' like dessert. Icin' on the cake, ain't no breaks, we speed Through. He's who you fear, so say a prayer For a redo. I'm that time you can't get back. Get racks 'til I'm seein' pitch black. Pullin' my own weight 'cause relyin' on another is Sealin' your own fate. Me and my kin won't bend and won't break. I'm pullin' new cash. My eyes are windows of bulletproof glass. All you fake friends can die slow. Quick death means you're missin' Guilt's highlight Show. Get your popcorn, it's only gettin' better, And I won't stop 'til we gon' be rich Forever. Haters better get they shit together. They mad at us 'cause they'll never get a Bag out us. Fuck 'em. Tell me why you mad. They, they envy when they see you on Top. Everything that I say hot. Niggas just mad 'cause they not. Tell me why you mad. They envy when they see you on top. Everything that I say hot. This shit sad, niggas just mad 'cause they not. Raw tacticals attack supernatural. Mad maxin' out the bank account, fingers cramped Countin' manual. Man slash animal, My habitat Cameroon. Bring it to your face like a camera zooms. Move full moons loony with the tunes, school Bullies. Slave to the groove, chains ruby. Gold bones, heart made of stone. Blood lobby in his veins, Mount Fuji. Exotic two-tone toolies. Joe Cooley flow while hoes take it X-rated. Good brains, they be well-educated. Beat breaks, trunk hittin', neck brace when they Play this. Dig crates, Madlib loopin' free bass when He made it. Uh, take it back to the Basics, it ain't gotta be deep unless I bury Bodies in the Caymans. Ayy, still famin' on the opposition. Five gear shiftin', he lippin' off, Pop his top like sweet Lipton. It's metaphysics what I spit, west jurisdiction. Ain't tryna kill, but I'm twitchin'. My niche keep nick, smokin' stench in a hieroglyphic Script. Iron Fist and punchlines critical, Convinced, not fuckin' with it. These niggas soft on the mic like Mike Bivins. Bet, I write it in white chalk. Every verse murder, swingin' tomahawks. Hatin' what I'm makin', 'bout to crack the vault. Got 'em mad at us. Tell me why you mad. They, they envy when They see you on Top. Everything that I say hot. Niggas just mad 'cause they not. Tell me why you mad. They, envy when they see you on top. Everything that I say hot. This shit sad, niggas just mad 'cause they not. Mad 'cause they not. Mad 'cause they not. Just mad, mad, mad, mad, mad 'cause they, They not