F.E.D.’s (Faggot Evil De-vines)

Rodan - “F.E.D.’s (Faggot Evil De-vines)”
[Emcee(s): Rodan]
[Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda]

[Intro: Samples]
[Sample from Season 1 Episode 7 of The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) - “The Lonely”]
“I don’t want any gifts. I don’t want tidbits. It makes me feel like an animal in a cage with an old lady out there who wants to throw peanuts at me” - James A. Corry
[Sample]
“Why are you doing this? Why? Why are you dropping in here?”
[Sample from Method Man on The Notorious B.I.G. ft. Method Man - “The What”]
“Got me mad enough to touch something. Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”

[Verse: Rodan]
Son
We’re used to doing break-of-dawn on stints, paying crack corner rents
Heavy links, iced-out ornaments, nothing major
Nickel and dime, just enough to stay flavor, loved
His mom and his seed enough to trade the role of player. Real dude
Thought he had a soldier squad, his heart was boulder-hard
Plus his physical was an older God, but
The clique he rolled with never held true, what the few taught
Got the crew caught when son smoked this faggot like a Newport
Investigation, so-called thorough niggas, tons of blazing, amazing
Part-time thugs were like bugs beneath the boots of Satan
Got knocked, sheriff stopped him up on Grand and Clinton
Pussy cyphers where you beasts patrol, streets you be hitting, law
Enforcement skating, son in the back, holding his head
Urban jungle born and bred, boobytrapped up in the Feds, swept up
Betrayed trust, a young buck misled, now he
Trade his Lunchables for government pearl cans, a warm
Blanket, shirt and pants are tan and khakis, bullshit at
Pataki. First one he got to know, this cat, his name was Blacky
Blacky was good peace but a junkie, this fronting bastard
Was a bunkie, pigs utilized black hairs—it’s flunky
Observing son do knowledge to the establishment, rhythm
Of prison policy, movements of each divisible inhabitant
Routine surrounded, special housing stay flooded, north door
I’m on the rear, across the way, south fully blunted, your man
Found his A-Alike caught in snitch crossfire, rats tossed
The plot like a forest plus found him full of priors
Cremated face in light, yet instill fear in no man
Barrels long in the heart, busting off his swords like Conan
So the sly bastard, while aiming but coming with power, fucking
Coward mixed, slashed temple of the man while he showered, God
Fell, held it down, stood his ground butt-naked
Crab left him leaking, that all-righteous blood is sacred, the same
Rat that’s all relaxing, laughing with the captain
Chatting like that’s his man, kicking raps and snapping
So you know what’s gonna happen. Son, there’s gonna be a clapping
Send this faggot there away, bloody blessed straight to the chaplain
On the hush and humble ‘cause he’s a battle-wise cat
Sit back, scrutinized warriors metabolize that
Analyze jail legends, celebrated pioneers
Through the years, all-time death-selling crack careers, original
Jiggy strictly fly, def, or sporting before he snorting
Documented Trailblazer—niggas call him Portland. Major dough
Hit the slow, so learn a lesson? Too embarrassed
No record lasts forever—just go and ask Roger Maris
Disciples throw it up through the set, calling ‘round, Javier
Losing it like Michael Douglas in Falling Down, copping out
The 40 and 20 to a new lifetime, yeah
You might find Javier way outside his right mind
Disconnected lifeline. Seen him when the sinker hit him, was off
The hook, then he hung it up on the sprinkler system, found
Forming on that nigga like a tumor, revenge like Monte-
-zuma, ate his food on a Friday five minutes before Jumu’ah
Jihad, God, razor spit split the snitch, quarter instinct
Icepick got the faggot flowing like a bitch
Through her menses. Beware your acts—the walls got senses. See here
Touch and tell before the blood fluid condenses, son
Scheming on that dude that was snitching from his block at the trial
Caught him in the kitchen, crept up on him and ripped him. Loose lips
Drops, slips, anonymous tips, life of platinum
Chains and whips, got niggas doing bids in modern-day
Slave ships, marking days up off the calendar
Asphalt 3 is pushing a 2000 Space Challenger
Science all along, day one, since arraigning me, Diaz
Bluffing with nothing but temporary criminal detainment
No evidence of son, plus a murderous acquitment of witnesses
The conspiracy oversees drug shipments. Come with it
Lieutenant. Your case was never blueprinted—admit it
Since the date, no indictment, son still get acquitted—dismiss it
Fouling on the “F”, so suck dick when you busting me
Read a kite from down, flow, reach, released from beast custody. Peace
I know you landed on your feet, soiled blood to concrete streets
Beyond prison walls, the nest of gods and me stay deep
Knowledge and fire make the sky big-chested, but wise
Winds keep the Earth thick-breasted, Allah respected

[Outro: Sample from Method Man on The Notorious B.I.G. ft. Method Man - “The What”]
“Got me mad enough to touch something. Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Got me mad enough to touch something. Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Got me mad enough to touch something. Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Got me mad enough to touch something. Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Got me mad enough to touch something. Yo, I’m from Monsta”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”
“Island, and ain’t afraid to bust something”