Apathy, Majik Most - Don't Talk to Me lyrics

Apathetic (yeah) the heir to the throne (word)
Mother molestors click (you know about that)
My man Majik Most the sweaty back bastard
Yeah, yo don't even talk to us
Don't run up with your burned CD
Or a piece of shit CD
With the cover picture on the front that
Your grandma took bitch fuck you!

I turn rappers to dust, burn rappers who bust
Turn wax to cut, burn backs of sluts
Earn stacks of bucks, learn raps to crush
You herb cats who touch
The microphones I clutch
Just observe and take notes how I
Make pesos and date hoes
Hotter than pepper on jalapeños
Paragraphs vibe through your speaker box
Making people stop on the streets to clock
Like cops in front of reefer spots
I'm known for pulling mics


Apart like repair shops
And when you bump I never
Feel it like air shocks
I used to rock air macks with Nike Air hats
Now I scare cats
They compare Ap to bear traps
I'm the type of path that people don't cross
Like the Blair witch woods when
You suckers get lost
I'm the hottest thing alive
Flame broiling spots
I'm foiling plots, my brainwaves boiling pots
At a temperature the burners on
Your stove can't match
I bust caps cause my heads
Way too big for hats
I'm gonna test your girls physical stamina
While I'm diggin and slammin her
On the digital camera

So don't talk to me about MC's got skills
He's alright but he's not real
Don't talk to me about MC's got skills
They're okay but they're not ill

So don't talk to me about MC's got skills
He's alright but he's not real
Don't talk to me about MC's got skills
They're okay but they're not ill

Ay yo hold up, Majiks on the case
Watch the flames from my tape
Ignite your gas tank
I lace you like your mom in a bondage suit
With matching hooker boots teaching you
To tie your shoes
You lose every time I rhyme
I'll clothesline you off your scooter
Your nothin but a loooser!
I'm on some highschool shit with
Lolipops in my pockets
For hot chick on my dick under seventeen
With my picture in their locket
On the club scene they don't need to
Take ecstasy they think about me
It's obvious I won't win a grammy from a song
But i'll run up in moeisha
And get my brandy on
Ask me if I'm dope, C'MON I'm MAJIK MOST!
I'll roast you bitch
I barbeque kids till you just a
Fucking skeleton wearin a wig
I'm trying to be Mr big so
Don't talk to me bitch

So don't talk to me about MC's got skills
He's alright but he's not real
Don't talk to me about MC's got skills
They're okay but they're not ill

So don't talk to me about MC's got skills
He's alright but he's not real
Don't talk to me about MC's got skills
They're okay but they're not ill

You better watch what you say
Like lip syncing in mirrors
Quit thinkin your near us
Your not even a million miles
Close enough to hear us
I stand six feet back and spit these
Raps until the concrete streets crack
I simplfy just to pacify the mass and burn
You like ants under a magnifying glass
Ya'll are underlings like the
Servents of kings
While I form ciphers and patterns
Like saturns circular rings
(it's Apathy) my sole purpose
Stands to cripple
My verses tear through tissue like
Surface to air missles
Navigating fighter planes safe to the ground
With one engine down and
Enemies circling all around
I'm mythical to hip hop fans
Some people hear that I'm 7 foot 8''
With three heads and no fear
They say I spit fire and I walk on air
Well if what they say is
True then you'd better beware

So don't talk to me about MC's got skills
He's alright but he's not real
Don't talk to me about MC's got skills
They're okay but they're not ill

So don't talk to me about MC's got skills
He's alright but he's not real
Don't talk to me about MC's got skills
They're okay but they're not ill