Felony Offenders

Verse 1 (Playdough):
Yo Cas, who lives like this? Living it large
Get a strong rap beat and I’m killing them bars
Got a long rap sheet and I’m guilty as charged
Got secrets I can’t keep so we giving them ours
I got to tell it, yell it and back it up with a mug shot
Dirty Harry couldn’t carry half the dangle Doug got
Give a Larry legendary leprechaun a jump shot
Never carry more than I can bury into one sock
My note book’s 2K and it weighed a ton
So me and Cas ain’t fast but we made a run
Right where the fader drum, dumb ditty dumb
Here we come, get them high, give me give me some some
This is point break, like a bank job
My ball point thanks, what a great job
What a great God, what a good beat
Rapping with a dope verse exactly how it should be
Uh huh uh huh uh huh

Verse 2 (Copywrite):
I pick up the state pen and write a prison sentence
Bars all day, got words, not Murs but a living legend
Will I get to Heaven? That’s not even a worry
Christ mediates for the Father, there’s not even a jury
You’re album stunk from out the trunk
When you put out the CD we thought you put out a skunk
Me, Playdough and Cas Metah, track wetters
Fellas with mad cheddar get shredded like bad lettuce
We got a track fetish, we knock letters on they back when a track hit us
And what’s wrong with you?
How dare you diss us, what song you do?
Aside from the X-Men name a stronger crew, ugh
Hit you from strange angles, call me Doctor Octagon
Giving these emcees delivery tips, Papa Johns
When I rock a song you would swear Pac was on
A felony offender with a tendency to talk to moms

Verse 3 (Cas Metah):
This isn’t Missy Misdemeanor this is Biggie with his nine
Still on the streets of Brooklyn scheming to get his re-up
Ugh, We all sinners with some sort of addiction
Difference in us is I was born to admit it
This is more than a gimmick, meet the lords of the pen
You’ll get torn in a minute but we destroy and rebuild
Everywhere we tour, any city we in
People be tripping balls like we be giving them ‘cid
Probably ‘cause the way we dropping hit after hit
Got it rolling off they tongue, spit after spit
I came to make the crowd move crib after crib
Forget Twitter, come and follow Metah like the Grateful Dead
Yeah that sound like the name for lames I laid to rest
Said I’ll take you to the maker, word to Maker and Qwel
Peace to Jayo, C-write and Playdough
You ought to lay low before you taking a L
Uh huh uh uh