God Sound

Now I can remember: way back in the winter, or September
It was '93 when we got signed, music was destiny
We’d flee the spot to Unique and made a hop with fat beats
And soon («Bi-ni-ni») the greatest summer jam hit the streets
I was strapped with Nike Airs and Vex came through the door
Had heads boppin a lot when the joint hit the floor
Hit Canada to Florida, L.A. to the East
We had heads in Japan shoutin «mark of the beast!»
Now check the deuce release, we tell it like it is
]From grown mens to kids, lettin em know that God lives
What up, dog, ha, the beast about to flip?
This world ain’t gettin no better unless we don’t strive for it
So come in, and welcome to a humble abode
Boogiemonsters, fat beats and rhymes is the mode
Save the drama for your mama, coma or hit the road
It’s time to get on down
With that God Sound (2x)
Yo, I was born in Alaska, transported to Virginia
Afar from the true origin of the north star
A small child, my father makin moves through military
Battlin heads on army bases for props, my life scary
Never let a brother fall into his mode
But everywhere I go it starts another episode
Dig it, it takes a real strong brain to remain
In the places I’ve been, worlds’s a waste, in sin
I saw choppers and gats, missiles and maps
Life of an army brat just pressured my rap
But everywhere I go, from yesterday to tomorrow
People cause episodes when we need to kill the drama
Word
Yes y’all, movin to the beat
You can settle down or just have a seat
God Sound is in your area, it’s keepin up your block
It got MC’s jumpin out them shoes and socks
Now clear-headed is my method, press rewind when I speak
I don’t need weed to help me think, relax, write rhymes and do beats
Now in a three-line design I gotta break down this ep'
I’m steppin out of this ride as quiet is kept
Out of nowhere three heads approach me in the night
Like «Why you shoot our cousin?», lookin ready to fight
I’m like «What?» then plow, before I know what I saw
The biggest one, 200 pounds, stood me dead in the jaw
But my man Ronnie Myers had the weapons on load
And quickly ended yet another ill episode
Have you ever seen those videos with the naked big booty girls
And the MC be rhymin
And you be like, «Yo, that joint is ill!»
But chill, when a rapper think he’s slick, he can’t rhyme a lick
So he presents the naked chick to cover up his lack of skill
But chill, there’s another category of MC’s
And it’s imperative that I hit em, cause I’m sick of em
With the el in one hand, and the other be packin steel
Y’all so fake it’s dangerous, sayin «I'm just tryin to keep it real»
Day in and day out I hear heads talk yang
Out the side of they neck with a whole bunch of slang
But it don’t change a thing, gunshots still ring
Invited just to fly over, peep the lessons we show ya
Never sweat what’s goin on behind your back over your shoulder
It’s just another road to the next episode
Ha-ha
Knawmean?
So just chill
Straight for 2000
Troy Hightower
In the place to be
BM’s international
And you don’t stop
It won’t stop
And it don’t stop