Grandmaster FRO

[Verse 1]

A ruggish thuggish bone in my harmony zone
Get off of me, ho, I'm sluggish, and I ought to be known
I ought to be grown to slaughter our astrology, homes
This ought to be harder than most, when I'm dropping my drones
And all of the cops
Probably can call me the top criminal
Rock minerals, you feel ill when your artery shot
Call me your pops, bitch, Papa popping shit
Papa popular, the prodigal pop at all of you imposters
So, pardon me, as I start an Apocalypse Now
Got it locked solid, slap boxing while I'm rocking a smile
Dropping a bomb by the pound, and all, and I'm off with the loud
You talking a lot for a while, I'm stomping this common canal
And drop it, you ought to be - BANG! - just for faking ya life
I hope at the breach of death's steps (ya take your own life)
Because a nigga like you does not deserve to breathe
The fucking air that I breathe, I swear that they ever so needy
Careful, they ever so greedy, careful, beware the deceiving
Wearing my medal achievement, see I'm the heir in this meeting
Niggas is scared when they see me, unnecessarily preaching
Leave 'em embarrassed and weeping
And everywhere niggas is bleeding, FRO!

[Break]

And the crowd sings...

[Verse 2]

Yo, yo
And all of you emcees ain't nothing but main courses
Remain focused, the gauge spray ya brain and torso!
The best of my forces, tested rhymes extortion
Electrify, direct the sniper, next to die enforcements
Stacking up shotty rounds when my whole army swarm
Racking up body counts like cold bodies in morgues
Defeating any emcee with an ignorance they conceive
Illiterate great beast, 'cause niggerish stay in me
Track absorbing, flashing forward
Back and forth, black, and I have the sword
To rap it more of according to these rappers that rap it raw
But I'm back to decapitate any rapper with a cannon ball
Or any man who brawl or wanna take the crown, I snatch it off!
The black Hasselhoff, handsome, man-handle scandal broads
I hit it off and out the park like black Mickey Mantle, pa!
Back snapper cracker, bad Mama Jamma sweet whores
Like prime Pam Anderson, I need at least three more
Dimes I'm smacking 'em, they need CPR
Rhymes of a champion, never see me fall!
This rapping thing don't work, I'm snatching ya loot!
Picture me fist-fighting gorillas trapped in a zoo! FRO!

[Outro]

And the crowd sings