International Playboy

[Verse 1: Dice Raw]
I catch them off guard, then tell them en-garde
Mr. Vanguard, new version of hip-hop's God
Messiah -- no higher, no flyer
Gold miner, like one of them dusty ass old timers
A hill climber with a stake in Mt. Everest
Cause I'm forever fresh, yeah, I'm forever death
And ya'll forever slept, on death's doorstep
But last night I'll tell you where your whore slept
In a house, with me, inside of an old portrait
With an old lady that be sitting on the porch with
A shotgun, and pitcher of lemonade
A picture of Christ, but I can't drink my sins away
Cause I could make a dollar a hundred different ways
Close a client, or I can throw on a gorilla's face
But I'm a doctor that talks with a scalpel
Scrapple, across your motherfuckers adams apple
It's like my heart's been replaced with an engine
And my driveway repaved with religion
And each stone is worth it's weight in gold
We breaking down the barriers and all the sound codes
But I'm staying true to the 'G' code
Jam Boys put aside all the egos
That's why we putting up freethrows
And blowing weed smoke on a speed boat
Shit, I drive around in a stupid coupe
And all the girls they be saying I'm stupid cute
Niggas mad, because I got stupid loot
But if you feel lucky go ahead, stupid, shoot
But you really stupid if you think I'd stoop
Down to your level, third step from the stoop
I'm like a hundred floors up from the roof
Looking down about to let that motherfucker loose

[Break]
It's the last of the ??
International playboy
It's the last

[Verse 2: P.O.R.N.]
See, I smoke the smoke, tell me and my folks is broke
Get it back on some okie-doke, fuck around gotta choke a bloke
Wanna dance, we can dosado
Uhoh, you know, when it's on, it's on
And at night poppy on his jawn
Got a fifth of some kerosine, got an ounce of [heroline?]
Knock me right on my dean
Knock dimes right off they horse
Like I knock the ash off my ports, when I kick mommy off my porch
Ill, baby I ain't right, still call me for the iron pipe
Still fly for my invite, strung out like flying kites
Don't take my advice, I'm cut from a dirty rag
My mind is a dirty mag, [and body weight is 30 tag?]
Plottin' on some cheese, you soft, don't make me squeeze
Your air don't make me breathe, your scratch might make me itch
Got a fix that can't be fixed
Got a mouth that can't be doused
Got a stroll that can't be told
When and where to get off the road
It ain't hard to sell when your file ain't hard to smell
Tell Nas, it ain't hard to tell
Who saved who god from hell
Who Smurf, who Gargamel
And the grass straight out of the bag
I'm a nail until I catch a snag, that means call me a cab
Baby girl, I'm out -- paper boy on his paper route
Floating on a cloud, outta' my mouth
Plus a little bit of magic dust
Fuck you, you don't fuck with us

[Break]

[Verse 3: Truck North]
Got my mind on mission --- money on time
Knives in the kitchen, dishes so high
Them girls outside waiting for him to arrive
Something like a pimp, yeah, nigga [I try?]
Hunting Park hit him now he walk lop-side
Put him in the trunk, take him over bridges like tide
A different stroke, but they say it's so odd
Put a little paint where it ain't, my lord
My job is harder, nigga, I'll martyr
Any sucka lost in the sauce, no tartar
Work like a mule, but the loot work smarter
And Jam Boy's son niggas like a stepfather
I'm the godfather, waiting on the God hour
Power make niggas clam up like chowder
Boys of the dollar, grip me up by the collar
Take a chunk out your flesh like a rottweiler
And I'm top shotta, yeah, top chef
Top down with your best bitch topless
And I confess, this the best none less
Vampires are for blood, straight cravin' like Wes
Laugh last laugh hardest, laughing all the way to the mo'-fucking coffin
I don't need a target, nigga, I'm a marksman
Taking out marks, and whoever want to talk it
Barkin' louder than than the bite is
And I'm a flight risk
Broke the mold when they made a nigga like this
So now you left with the end result
And the Jam'll give it to you like however you want
Sucka, live from gangland, it ain't the same fam
Sniff a blitz, audible; change the game plan

[Break]

[Verse 4: Black Thought]
I'm so fresh, ready on the left
The flow so tight, ready on the right
Machete on the mic, you could bet it on your wife
The black mack the knife, bet it on your life
The Jam Boys' re-in' up every other night
We heavy on the hip, niggas heavy on a hype
I mean, look at ya'll clones, everyone alike
And look at ya'll barcodes, everyone a stripe
The track give chase like Chevy, when I snipe like Wes
Right through your tight vest, and stop and take time
So ya'll can digest this thing, we began and watch the progress
Composed of obsess[?], I acquire objects
I acquire mad chicks, that admire my checks
They be knowing 'Riq Gees is now, and not next
So we can smoke trees, and clown and pop vex
Known for hot sex, and getting them topless
I'm heavy on the beat like Eddie on the F
I'm a gourmet chef, you can smell it on my breath

[Verse 5: STS]
Yep, niggas know about me, I'm already in the deck
I'm a south side nigga, push a Chevy to the depth
Purple labels on my neck, my finest [betty?] on my left
I know she want to spend the night, I just want to spend the ['F'?]
It's the poster boy for players, ya'll might want to send a rep
Flow official, like the ref, I'm to the whistle on the chest
You a pistol in the pocket, I'm a missile in the jet
This is definitely a threat, sweat trickle on your neck
Talking legendary status, whenever J-B connect
Check the Louie on my step, I roll a doobie up
[I take a two-ie from a groupie?], [yo, a booty in the set?]
Call me Sugar, to the T-S, all about the G-S
[Stop quotes, post route]
[.....]