Half a Dozen MC’s

[Verse 1: Funky DL]
Knock knock, hello, a 6 foot fellow / I’m never too far from the Hood and the Ghetto / King of beats, I’m a musical Pharaoh / you can call me classic but I don’t play the Cello / got a slick style that the people call mellow / I got punch lines like Abbot and Costello / who’s on first base? Ya’ll know my M. O. / now I got chicks saying “listen to my demo” / there’s something so cute about a women in yellow / call me Casanova, bustin’ cherries like Morello / Italian charm you can call me “Angelo” / to die like Othello? / Question Mark, N. O. / a bunch of MC’s and we build like Lego / trying to take this rap shit to another level / how many MC’s? / “I don’t know, several” / top champions so we bus’ a gold medal

[Verse 2: Messiahbolical]
Uh, ah, I’m the illest you’ll ever know / a big deal, syllable centrefold / with a solid gold metal coated De La Soul / pellet gun tongue, fire Ella Fitzgerald notes / while you silicones sell a soul / bars fill like a catapult cantaloupes / vocal chord cannibal calibre / hop aboard Hannibal’s acting up / yeah, and the flows so breezy / face looking Jermaine Jackson greasy / and I’m running a mock all over the beat / nobody wanna compete / nobody fucking with we / I’m dropping more in a week than you can drop in a year / you’re falling off of the edge, you might as well disappear / and me and DL, CL Smooth / so when he helps me out, we help you

[Verse 3: Pyrelli]
They say “it’s a cold world” so supply your own heat / I’m that fire guy delivering pyro-techniques on a beat / damaging any MC in every area each / blame the chip on my shoulder gripping a pole, I bury your dreams / while the Jazzy Blackcurrent keep the scene so serene / leave stains on your screen, I’m stepping in clean and mean with the scoop and the scope / huh’, rolling up my sleeves, flick the collar on my coat / coming live from the streets, I holler the dollar quotes / talking bout life and trying to cope / feeling like a successful bloke / keeping the flow so ever so dope is how I turn fans to fiends / with G’ code of conduct lyrically, scriptures written calligraphy / I’m up in the upper echelon for the extra visibility / hanging haters for mimickery, drown em’ in my celebrity / I tap dance on your facade, gangster choreography / consider this my policy, follow me as I topple trees / chillin’ in the comfort zone, the place you got to be

[Verse 4: Dukus Alemay]
You should stay put if you’re gonna fight me / just like Facebook, you can only like me / so you go back on your own word / looking all dumb so you may look like you un-liked me / way too many who hate / too many fakes need to see the dentist, they toothache / say they move weight when they knew they wasn’t even nowhere near the level of a true great / true say they’re confused with delusion / at the red light not moving, snoozing / they think it’s magic, I know it’s illusion / cos I made em’ think they’re winning when they’re losing / I’m living like the world’s gonna end tomorrow / so if you follow me there’s gonna be sorrow / cos the path is treacherous and I won’t ever rest til’ I reach the top of Everest / so you should never test me /

[Verse 5: Sus]
I’m trying to get doe, stack til’ it grows mould / big dick swinging in a room, Trojan flow / so I go slow, still jealous ones wanna hit with a low blow / I’mma homophobe in a room of assholes / so I stone cold stun em’ on the throat, Kimbo to the nose, face, riddled them with lumps / don’t call the Po-Po / I act like grown folk / beat you with a belt I sent you out for / oust you outlaws, underground to outdoors, stay in your house more / cos I ain’t inna’ that chitty chat silly crap, simple home run face kissing on a her back / “BLAOW!!, best you behave / see me in a rave, don’t say my name / you’ve got no heat, shit! / you’re more like a black man trying to sun bathe in the shade

[Verse 6: Ricko Capito]
Hey yo’ Funky, drop the drums please on this dumb beat / bass will make em’ fall of the wall like Humpty / latecomers don’t need to wear no dunce C.A.P. in the corner just get comfy / get to know me, I’m a nice brother / just like a hot knife and the beats like butter / I move to every beat like “shut up!” / you’re about to die and meet your maker for touch ups / PRS will have my bank account buffed up / the Queens heads got me sprung, I’m loved up / yeah, I just thought that I’d share that / I breed flows when I tear tracks bareback / wait, my lowest level is a million / and your highest level is ten so you ain’t near that / R.I.C.K.O. that’s Ricko C.A.P. line dot T. O