Buddha Monk - No Frills (feat. Popa Chief) Lyrics
[buddha monk] Get off my mother *****in life! [poppa chief of zu ninjaz] Yo, yo, this some zu shit! Yo, ugh! i know you want it, and i wanna give it. ah! [chorus x2: poppa chief of zu ninjaz] I got this proposal i'ma slide across the table Mansions, cars, horses, stables Stocks and bonds, cds and t-bills This time around, zu strictly frills! [buddha monk] Yo, you act like the sun don't shine Then i decline and make that ass dumb, deaf and blind Watch this spittin logic, just aimin at yo' noggen Mind-bogglin, and damn right the zu will smash somethin This verbal technique will soon be heard on every street Just watch yo' peeps and watch sure you niggaz don't sleep We defy the laws of gravity and burn thru yo' anatomy Watch us work this *echos* Three-hundred and forty pounds, this god will get down With verbal smacks, bustin gats, jiggin nines in yo' backs I don't play that, my silver spoon was bent way back Hate to say that, but that's the way it is when you black Not prejudice, but stay far away from six And i won't give even if my balls gets bit Stay reclined, never swine, twist the eighty-five wives We can wine, to make this station all one mind [chorus x2] [buddha monk] Warn this, awareness, i come like a terrorist Enter the bloodstream, beware, can you handle this? Disasterous, it is i, the one lord and master The buddha's weight is made with gats and gun silencers Powerful thoughts increase, as i release The knowledge on my brain, and it's wicked like ten beasts It is not the who, it's the old brooklyn zu Styles get raw like a freakland zoo Fix this, flows drillin in the banquet Buddha inflicts the hoes like bake's existence I remain to cause pain, dirty words and slang Yo, you ***** with the zu chain, ya headed for a headbang Walk down my path, ya head is what i'm after Save all those jokes and rhymes, no time for laughter [chorus x2] [buddha monk] I warnin this to mind delinquents, with rap flows i speak frequent Ya body's cold niggaz and ya mind tolerance is low I like brooklyn zu done sole, first nigga thrown out the window Damn, thrity-two degrees below zero and it feels like a cold war There's never more gun totin, ha, backyard tree smokin The haren with tote nose, with love at first sight, eludin Bit pressure tester, yea, zu mind collector Close your mind like chester's so your body gets light like feathers Whatever, you think zu disappear niggaz?! ha, never! I'm like a cold mind with head lice, yo, diggin in ya sector I'm afraid for ya, we spread like the germ gonarhea ***** all you mamami's with no trace of pupmed water, see us In god we shall trust, grafted skin we never touched Flows like black dust, now think about god bust *sizzlin sound* (oh, what a rush!)
