Low Profile - Comin’ Straight From the Heart lyrics

Comin from the left
Now here's a little somehin
I slapped together just for you
And your weak posse
I dedicate it to those who don't know
That I'm a maniac straight from
The heart of Low Pro
And for a livin I break necks
Of punk chumps who slipped
Matter of fact, I should bust you in the lip
But nah, I ain't livin that way, so bro
I rather slap you with knowledge as I go solo
Hey yo, Aladdin
What's up with all these wanna-be
M-i-c fake controllers takin over the scene?
They don't know who I am
The young boy and yours truly
Step off, new jack, you're just a new Rudy
Of rap
You're bound to get slapped steppin to me
Strunger than a smoker on PCP
I cannot lose
I got the downest deejay in the world
Aladdin break the needles while
The Technics twirl
Hey yo
I know there's nowadays a lotta
Rappers holdin a mic
Wastin time but naw, they ain't hype
They same old styles, yo
With the same old things
And at shows the same old wack routines
I like runnin on stage and clownin MC's
So when you see me at a show
Don't even step to me
Be alert, cause the W will spin the chart
You can't touch me, boy
I come straight from the heart
Most MC's nowadays
They don't come from the heart
They rap what the record label wants
But why can't I talk about
The way that I'm livin?
Yo, day by day suckers robbin and stealin
Bein shot at, stabbed
That ain't nothin to me
Just another damn way of l-i-f-e
But then again I ain't supposed
To even mention a gun
Or I be charged with corruptin
The mind of a young
One, yo, that's wack, what up with showbiz?
Bannin my shows cause I tell it like it is
If I was rich
Then I'd rap about a Lamborghini
Got some pretty women in grip-tight bikinis
But I ain't
Like I first said from the start
I'm a muthafucka
I come straight from the heart

Anxiety is buggin me to cold get ill
Grab a bat
Engrave on a sucker face 'Louisville'
But naw
I better chill that ain't the life to live
Couple years in the county bread
And water for a meal
Over what? A peasy knuckleheaded MC
Who doubted my ability
Y'all know what I mean
The kinda suckers who brag, yo
You know who they are
They make one wack record and
Think they a star
Suckers gettin airplay
But the record ain't kickin
You punks doin shows for
Kentucky Fried Chicken
Every rapper now wanna wear a
Clock on his neck
There's one Flavor Flav, so give it a rest
Hey yo, Aladdin, help me out
Rip the record apart
Pay attention, I come straight from the heart

(Cold get stupid)

Power, pat, rhymes are goin gold
More soul, bro
Than the Angelist David Saphro
I come straight from the heart with the rhyme
Givin suckers like you and him
A piece of my mind
Conditioning my dome to wax and
Tax suckers who're wack
Where's the milk
I eat you up like applejacks
To describe myself three words to tell
Hm - the W is crazy as hell
Back in the streets of LA i be rockin
And you can find Aladdin
Cuttin records in Compton
Though we ain't from the same city
We're down
You got beef with that, punk
You're bound to get clowned
Suckers in line to get dissed
I'm ballin my fist
Who's next up to taste some of this?
Hysterical, critical, flexible lyrical??????
Yo, MC's can't hang, boy
I put em in a hospital
You shoulda known from the jump or the start
Every lyric I throw I come
Straight from the heart