MVC BUS RIDIM KILA

[Intro: Edgar the Beatmaker]
Yo, yo

[Verse 1: Edgar the Beatmaker]
I obliterate illiterate fools
I'm re-alliterate my political views
Misinterpret-ate the critical truce
Spread across the globe for the cynical news

Miles Davis choose drop
Without original blues
Born as a lyrical muse, but I'm dazed and confused
And amazed at what we can create as a crew
Surrounded by a purple haze, became stale and blue

Little bit of Al Green, they'll be jailing you
We mailing tunes, across the globe 'cause England's a bitch
I'm skinning a spliff, envisioning bliss, love living the risk
If you're burning by the lights, you ain't discovering this

For my mad fives kids, we're stuck in this abyss
This monkey went to heaven, clocked heaven with shit

So came back to hell on earth to learn a lesson, to spit
But really what's the worth when it's as depressing as this
The best curse of death, now I'll be selecting the list
Perfecting the need to resist, hard to believe I exist
Reminiscing, music making's help, making me live my life
Bit of trouble and strife from the pigs with their sticks and knives
List of lies, of the institutionalized
Subsidise or they subside the pub fights

Took too long to clock they haven't done right
Clock them industries, just forgot how to love life
Send em' well, from when I'm in thug life, and tough times
It's [?] that I love her, but hero's got a fucked minds
(It's [?] that I love her, but hero's got a fucked minds)

[Bridge: Slam the Poet/Cecil B Demented]

Tuck your shirt in son, I'm the big one
The switch has guns for pens and swings for businessmen
Screaming, "Death's not the end"
'Cause endings are beginnings that have yet to be written
So seek wisdom, and flee the money prison
'Cause the queen's head, it has been said, makes the world turn
But it could make your world burn
If you don't learn to treat [?] secondary
Too many people be settling very serious scores
Indulging material flaws
But don't hate the effect, hate the cause
Don't hate the people, hate the laws
And if you want to see change then open your doors
To the corpse on the lawn and just greet the new dawn
These the words of the dead beat poets
Shut my eyes, let my head stay
Show it's never too late to make peace
'Cause peace is the ferns that hate the speech
To blaze trees, and dream daily
Of the feds leaving the streets
So we're walking to the people's beat
See the writing on the wall, it spells MVC
And the prophet at the moment is the STP
I rep 20 B.C. and Edgar the Beatmaker
He's the lyrical saviour

[Cecil B Demented]
Cecil B Demented, Slam the Poet
Scam and wretched

[Slam the Poet]
We done, all the young disrespected