Baba Brinkman, Dizraeli - Mad Style Disease lyrics
[Baba Brinkman, Dizraeli - Mad Style Disease lyrics]
Don’t take me for nothin’
But a punch-line jester
Inside my chest I let the rhymes fester
‘Til I’m feelin’ like a woman
In her third trimester
Then I just deliver – wait, scratch that
I mean I digest the liver
Of anyone try to test
When I flexin’ rhymes tight enough
To twist in a rizzla
And when you’re smokin’ it
Any type of narcotic is
An appropriate analogue
‘cause what I’m writin’ astonishes
This is Planet Rock crossed with
The tightest mic product since
The writer of sonnets and Titus Andronicus
My life is synonymous with Hip-Hop fa sho’
You could try to fight if you wanna
But one monkey don’t stop
The show, as Dustin Hoffman knows
And when this Outbreak clogs your throat
No anesthetic is
Gonna stop the spread of this global pandemic
Rap fans get infected the
Minute a jam’s ended god dammit
I’ve got mad style disease
Infectin’ a thousand MCs like spirochetes
I’ve got a sonically transmitted
Disorder of rhyme all of the time
Tanglin’ terrific talk the tongue-tweaker
I walk on your flows like Jesus
On water with one speaker
And a dodgy mic and a five string guitar
This troglodyte might bring the stars
Back down to the underground
So all the alley rats can see
Like me, galactically
And break out of the battery factory farm
I’m actually not particularly Hip-Hop
I haven’t got the right swagger or stroll
I don’t battle or ball, but I'm bound
To bop around the world like a Bedouin tribe
Writin’ down poetry, wearin’ amphetamine eyes
Settlin’ never
Wrestlin’ idiocy to be unfetterin’
Heads that are chained deep in
The brain of the beast
My terrain is ceaselessly unfolding
It ain’t just what I say
I’ll strip and preach naked
To the subway commuters, ‘cause as humans
Suit's could never suit us
We’re unique from the day
That we take shape in the uterus
And the future is
Looking grim I stand in the blistering sun
Watching the trees withering one by one
Feeling the spread of a sickness up
In my head I predict this
Is the day my illness infects the hit list
Bear witness
I’ve got mad style disease
Infectin’ a thousand MCs like spirochetes
I’ve got a sonically transmitted
Disorder of rhyme all of the time
How am I tryin’ to be rockin’ a
Tune if I’m not a musician?
I listened to two million different hit's
And caught a few sicknesses
But, I’m still livin’
‘cause now I’ve got a new mission
It’s never to let a rapper
Get in my auto-immune system
So I seep in your blood quicker than syphilis
In fertility clinics
Leavin’ a hideous boil dribblin’
I am the sickest citizen leavin’
Impotent fuckers to think again
Givin’ em stinky ends with my written blend
If I fit the description
Then there’s been a distortion
This isn’t just a little itch
Like when your genitals’ scorchin’
It’s more than any medical
Professional’s ever recorded
In their official report
A swarm of epidemic proportion
Now I’m a witch doctor
Operating with minimum ignorance
Making incisions in your cynicism
With my limericks i fiddle with your spleen
Like a swizzle stick
My vocals turn an idiot to a
Misfit for the frig of it
I’ve got mad style disease
Infectin’ a thousand MCs like spirochetes
I’ve got a sonically transmitted
Disorder of rhyme all of the time
But a punch-line jester
Inside my chest I let the rhymes fester
‘Til I’m feelin’ like a woman
In her third trimester
Then I just deliver – wait, scratch that
I mean I digest the liver
Of anyone try to test
When I flexin’ rhymes tight enough
To twist in a rizzla
And when you’re smokin’ it
Any type of narcotic is
An appropriate analogue
‘cause what I’m writin’ astonishes
This is Planet Rock crossed with
The tightest mic product since
The writer of sonnets and Titus Andronicus
My life is synonymous with Hip-Hop fa sho’
You could try to fight if you wanna
But one monkey don’t stop
The show, as Dustin Hoffman knows
And when this Outbreak clogs your throat
No anesthetic is
Gonna stop the spread of this global pandemic
Rap fans get infected the
Minute a jam’s ended god dammit
I’ve got mad style disease
Infectin’ a thousand MCs like spirochetes
I’ve got a sonically transmitted
Disorder of rhyme all of the time
Tanglin’ terrific talk the tongue-tweaker
I walk on your flows like Jesus
On water with one speaker
And a dodgy mic and a five string guitar
This troglodyte might bring the stars
Back down to the underground
So all the alley rats can see
Like me, galactically
And break out of the battery factory farm
I’m actually not particularly Hip-Hop
I haven’t got the right swagger or stroll
I don’t battle or ball, but I'm bound
To bop around the world like a Bedouin tribe
Writin’ down poetry, wearin’ amphetamine eyes
Settlin’ never
Wrestlin’ idiocy to be unfetterin’
Heads that are chained deep in
The brain of the beast
My terrain is ceaselessly unfolding
It ain’t just what I say
I’ll strip and preach naked
To the subway commuters, ‘cause as humans
Suit's could never suit us
We’re unique from the day
That we take shape in the uterus
And the future is
Looking grim I stand in the blistering sun
Watching the trees withering one by one
Feeling the spread of a sickness up
In my head I predict this
Is the day my illness infects the hit list
Bear witness
I’ve got mad style disease
Infectin’ a thousand MCs like spirochetes
I’ve got a sonically transmitted
Disorder of rhyme all of the time
How am I tryin’ to be rockin’ a
Tune if I’m not a musician?
I listened to two million different hit's
And caught a few sicknesses
But, I’m still livin’
‘cause now I’ve got a new mission
It’s never to let a rapper
Get in my auto-immune system
So I seep in your blood quicker than syphilis
In fertility clinics
Leavin’ a hideous boil dribblin’
I am the sickest citizen leavin’
Impotent fuckers to think again
Givin’ em stinky ends with my written blend
If I fit the description
Then there’s been a distortion
This isn’t just a little itch
Like when your genitals’ scorchin’
It’s more than any medical
Professional’s ever recorded
In their official report
A swarm of epidemic proportion
Now I’m a witch doctor
Operating with minimum ignorance
Making incisions in your cynicism
With my limericks i fiddle with your spleen
Like a swizzle stick
My vocals turn an idiot to a
Misfit for the frig of it
I’ve got mad style disease
Infectin’ a thousand MCs like spirochetes
I’ve got a sonically transmitted
Disorder of rhyme all of the time