Otitis - Ginsu (Remix) Lyrics

Aye, this ain't old school vs. new school or nothing like that
I'm just sayin', if you trash, you trash, you need to cut that bullshit out

I was writing rhymes before the time that I had started cursing
Killing verses second nature to me, you don't know the first thing
Making beats since I was 15, when rims was big and glistening
When chains would hang and wrists gleam, my sanctity was this thing

Rapping went and slipstreamed, to mumbling and nonsense
Thought it would get more conscious, humbled with dumber content
Yet I have been a Lochness, since rockin' Sean John threads
Holla, wah gwan dread, yah no wan problem

Put highlights in your hair, it's fair, cuz you act like them women do
I'm cynical, I'll kill you fools, call you "bitch" in interviews
You rappin' or you singin', dude? Lean and paint thinner, too?
Snatch your plate of dinner food just for the sake of feelin' full

The Ryu of the rap game; we are not, in fact, same
Balanced every act and made sure everything on tracks flame
Made the beat, I wrote the rhymes, and engineered, I grind
Put Otitis in ya ear, or call me OT "overtime," like

Cut that bullshit out
Cut that bullshit out
Cut that bullshit out
Ginsu

All I'm hearing's doin' Xans, poppin' glocks, blah, et cetera
Trust, I can make some hits, like I'm Roger Federer, but
If I did, O'd be near Ls, like ha-ha letters, bruh
Cuz hip hop's been dead, since the god Nas said it was

Look, Phife in me, got Pun in me, got hip hop in my soul
It's life to me, I'm one/two/three, if they call out for roll
Man, there must be more than Kendrick, and there must be more than Cole
That us folks consider dope, they don't set 'em up to blow (Get it)

Champ on the pads like a boxer (Boxer)
Handle the keys like a locker (Locker)
Rappers more corny than masa (Masa)
Stayin' lined up with the chakras

That's the flow they use, suppose I do the same ol' shit as they
Meet the quota to this overused and formulaic game
I just do it for the love, I don't care if I get paid
But it'd probably be cool to get some cash for what I made

F*ck that, I wasn't snappin' then, and I ain't 'bout to mumble now
I'll be raw till they break this pen, tell 'em sit they asses down, like

Aye, f*ck them cats, I'ma rid 'em all
I ain't gon' sit back, I'ma get involved
If it's coldest raps, bet I penned 'em all
Might hit 'em wit "da car" like it's Senegal

Might hit 'em with the arms, like a general
You can all get f*cked, like a Jenna doll
Left 'em all in dust, never get a draw
I can only move up from the pinnacle

You rappers sheep; I make masterpiece, and I'm mass-decreasing their kind (Jooks)
You bastards sleep; if you Master P, then I'm Ras and
And Weezy combined (Look)
Have 'em tag your feet, I breeze past the scene with all trash deceased, like I'm fine (Took)
I asked for peace, but they madness means I wage war, no cease to my grind (Shook)

Take a puff of the weed to calm down and shit
Can't help I'm mad, your steez counterfeit
Call me your majesty 'round this bitch
No simplicity out my lips

I don't count sheep, I count bars
Ain't tryin' to sleep, but drown stars
Got the recipe to make you rest in peace
In pet cemetery, my yard (Let's go)

All you look and sound alike, you dunces got a type
Your retarded generation's who's gon' say it's you they like
I don't do "can't beat em join 'em," if I die, then I fought hard
I'll be choppin' off your head, with no respect while you off guard, like