Down and Dirty About My Scratch (Celph Titled) - Time Machine

Yo, how you doing?

(Celph Titled: Yo, ain’t nothing man, just down and dirt about my scratch)

Oh word?

(Yo know what I mean)

So you going to kick something for the listeners or what?

(Oh, no doubt, yo)

Ok

(Verse 1: Celph Titled)

Now listen up, I ain’t one for all of that tough guy chat

I come from East Waters Avenue, where niggas cock they gats at

Learned how to stack funds without pushing crack crumbs

Credit card fraud from pay phones getting cash sums

Back in '91, old school Tampa shit

Robbing lowriders for they tape decks, amps and kits

And we was never shook of cops

If we saw you getting shaped up

We’d turn the barbershop into a butcher shop

Nowadays we more chill but get more ill

Keep a burner for protection like I got a force field

No more Juice Crew, just faggots wearing Fubu

But that’s cool, cause F.U.

I wouldn’t want to B. U

Niggas creep through with firearms that’ll bang your back

A rotten ski mask that look more like a ninja mask

I rap like a trained assassin marine, piece the time machine

Write in night vision now my rhymes are green

I represent Demigodz and Army of the Pharoses

Collecting old guns, spending bread on ran toast

But if I’m getting on a track and you ain’t as nice as me

I up the fee, spit a verse and charge you for the price of three

Yeah and that’s a rap

A rap for all you string bean mother fuckers

Oh my bad, my bad, can we curse

(Yeah, don’t sweat it Celph)

Oh, alright, my bad

That’s a rap for you string bean mothers day advocates

You know what I mean, show some love to your mom

I know I did