Godfather Don, Kool Keith - Voices lyrics

Yeah Pony L and Dr strangelove
Once again, I gotta tell you how it is

I used to check out
Use the mad route stare at
These ugly bitches Sit
At the table with frowns
With their stomachs out cellulite for weeks
Rules in these New York streets
With mad babies
Big heads movin' in the stroller
You gettin' older while that dress
Hangs off your shoulder
You stupid bitch, he's sick
The kids got the shit's
You walkin' wack with those problems
In your ass crack
You chose this nigga, he's a zero girl
Doin' nothin' you was buggin' because the
Bum had curly hair you got psyched
The baby came out with some nappy hair
You was a fine freak
Thoroughbred dumb with no head
I seen you scrape up your pennies up at BBQs
Your friends are fat with guts
Breakin' all the rules
You choose to lose, no cheers, receivin' boos
Rent is due with some old
Crab nigga fuckin' you
It's true, it's summertime
What you gonna do? Every winter you got this
Gay man screwin' you
This bitch is a problem, no money
Fuckin' dummy she's from the slum actin'
Fly fuckin' bread crumb
Shopliftin' programs runnin' on the boulevard
Stretch marks leak out your tight dress
Your legs are scarred yeah

Voices inside my head
Problems keepin' you fed

This bullshit needs to cease
Rappers rappin' for cheese
It's like a disease the way
Niggas be snackin' for fees
Executives, even accountants playin'
Artists like chips
The last time you was legit
I was suckin' on nips
Up in my shit like a dog checkin' for sex
Babies and gettin' the Lex, hey they forget
While the door slammin', dick crammin'
Eye jammin' wait, "My show's slammin'"
Cash up your nose Hammond
Landin' deals ain't shit if
Your label ain't shit
Nitwit's split for sips while
I flip scripts legit
Commit to whippin' ass on the mic
It's like a fuckin' runway
These niggas is like bitches
Feelin' through gunplay
One day when lyrical finesse is stressed
Instead of dress I'll compress
Compression and hate, blow out the best
But it's cool fools like you makin' crews
Thats blue stay true
One Thousand lyrical orators, pay dues
So snooze and get dissed
Bust in the head with Cris'
Fake ice on your wrist
I'm nice and you on my dick like piss
You wish you was half the lyricist
That I persist to be
Don't say shit to me, Godfather like Sicily
The misery's consistencies acidity
Will blemish these abnormalities
In the industry

Voices inside my head
Problems keepin' you fed
Voices inside my head
Problems keepin' you fed