DJ Unknown, DJ Mekalek, Percee P - Percee P Freestyle (Brothers on the Slide: The Lost Freestyle Sessions) lyrics

Yeah, yeah, it’s The Monarch of
The Subterranean, Legendary Lethal Lyricist
The Rhyme
Inspector Percee P up in this place
Y’all bX, Boogie Down Bronx
Y’all in case you don’t know
Patterson projects representing for my man DJ
Unknown and DJ Mek check the
Sets, y’all check it uh, uh

I’m not your average
Man bragging, toe- or hand tagging
Fifty-gram bagging
Pants sagging, trigger nigga
On the bandwagon, huh
I know this nigga named Ricky
His girl Nikki want to get with me, said
"Stick me just a quickie lick
Me and leave a hickie"
I’ll stick instead of tricking
Bread with these chickenheads
One got slick and said I ain’t shit
In bed she must be licking lead
You'd better let your gods recognize
The Rhyme Inspector high
I’ll never sweat them lies about me haters
Check your eyes
One verse, lung burst as I done first slums
Guns, hearses don't stun Perc’
Where I'm from's worse
Got a ladder on stage women running
Coming every age i’ll fling the ring on my
Finger this singer lingers unengaged
Stacks of rhymes no match for
Mine tracks are shined
Leave you back in time when I build
I still ain’t at my prime
Accept you’re facing trial this shit is
Wild i’ll turn the dial
Niggas stealing my style I
Should file for reparations
It’s like this and like that, y’all black
I’m back to smack these wack
New jacks who rap, y’all

It’s like this check it out, y’all uh, uh
Supply the checks

Known from Cali
Chi to LAX my respect and styles
Some try to get, but die direct from the
Side effects you crave
Perc’ ‘cause I'm well-equipped with
Predicate you’re too
Delicate for this fellow flip, kid
You’d better get saved first
Call freaks pretty, no flawed feet
All sweet small peeks
'Cause my Stocks Exchanged
They're Wall Street
Stealer-slick, kicking the illest hit's
Who kill us quick
When our building spit more rounds
Than Bruce Willis flicks? Ideas
And flow raise eyelids that's
Why kids make hybrid
Rhymes supplied with stuff this
Guy did years ago to grasp a taste
Have to place ‘em in a glass or case
And observe from a NASA space center
With a mask on face
Turf: BX scorn kids, leave their borns with
Birth defects uh remain clean
I’ll claim teams that became
Fiends strange gleams
Go through vein streams
Leave gangrene my name rings bells
Sick of you shit you do
Is predictable kick a few on your cut like a
Ritual p’s works incredible
Some said I do sound like
A clever few that’s poetical
Theoretical nah, kid
You’d better do research thousand short
Files in courts said I reproduce
So many from my styles
I’m fought for child support
Better shit come clever with
Stuff fighters never did, except it gets
Hot like a beverage those that
Never hit need leverage

Yeah, yeah i’m throwing root
Beers in your fridge
Kid i’ma give a shout-outs
To my peoples: the Vinyl Dogs, Indie
5000, my man T La Rock
Y’all remember "It’s Yours" Saga
My man Rhymer
The poetical masochist the Molemen
Out in Chicago, Chi Town my man
Apathy and don’t forget J-Zone, y’all