Pink Chicken

[Intro: J-Force]
Word is born son
It's like my fate you know (It’s your fate)
The mic and all (Yeah)
Third joint (Number 3)
Fuck a label (We snappin')
Know what I'm saying?
I got one question for ya'll (What’s that?)

[Verse 1: J-Force]
Uh, I'm just a man trying to play this hand I was dealt
But that’s ight cause I'm the man and I'm about to be felt
I melt the microphone like a snow cone
Competition gets dusted like rockets in O-zone
Park after dark and spark scenery and normal greenery
It kinda helps bring out the fiend in me
And I'm lifted, on December 25th shit I'm gifted
So when it’s time to flip shit come equipped with
Rhymes on reserve like a reservoir
But never tap that tango ever saw and upset
Informin' the dogs and you ain't even a pup yet
Trying to blow when I already erupted
Sup with these kids in the buis' tryna
Go plop or while they plot my fizz
Coming off like jizz out the seminal, vesicles
Dicks couldn’t hang with testicles
Impressible skills are untestable, till'
A sucker wanna test me, then let's see who the best be
Not one to toot horns like Gillespie, yo
But when is time to crunch I'm Nestlé

[Chorus]
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee
If you can't get paid to be a fucking emcee?
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee If you can't get paid?

[Verse 2: J-Force]
Yeah, yo
Real power can’t be given it must be taken
That's why I snatch mics and leave motherfuckers
Shaking like leaves on trees in the breeze, enemies or Kennedys'
So yo they get smoked like chimneys
Trying to politic behind closed doors, swallow dick
While I kick shit street-level
Deep put out the shovel
Twenty-thousand leagues pass the devil
Searching for a tomb to im-bevel
R.I.P's this M.I.C just like the coroner
Like a one-stop shop where war is in store for ya, forced, too raw for ya
Like Pink Chicken try and guess in one rhyme I'ma rhyme in your second life
Salmonella, remember this rhymin' killa?
It’s been about one year but now I’m still the
Type of guy Madonna be trying to pull rhyme phenomenal
Flex mic skills like abdominals
You wanna rap all of that can wait
I won’t push I won’t beat around the bush
But I sat back and watch wack flows evaporate
While I was turning microphones into mush

[Chorus: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee
If you can't get paid to be a fucking emcee?
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee if you can't get paid?
Who the— fuck wanna be an emcee
If you can't get paid to be a fucking emcee?
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee If you can't get paid?

[Verse 3: J-Force]
I break it down like chemistry, no matter the size shape or symmetry
Now we see who's the real tough guy
In this industry some cats are finicky some are frisky
But try to mimic me and you'll be taking a risk B
Push a Benz while I push your pen
I think I knew you in the past-life kid you was pussy then
Following trends, trying to be a leader
With your cream-puff crew and your water pistol-heater
I see the bitch in you and it ain't hard to spot
And your ego is clitoris when I be making ya hot
You ain't hip-hop, not in the slightest bit
About a year ago I seen you at the show in the biters' pit (Never writing shit)
And got your nerve trying to swerve into my piece
Where mics get smoked like high sheesh over fly beats
I be the priest blessin' kids, dressin' kids cause in 98' the real question is

[Chorus: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee
If you can't get paid to be a fucking emcee?
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee if you can't get paid?
Who the— fuck wanna be an emcee
If you can't get paid to be a fucking emcee?
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee if you can't get paid?
Who the—