Rasco, Defari, Dilated Peoples - Major League lyrics

Don't front
So many claim the fame, but never see the day
When lyrically they could even run
In the Triple-A's
This here's the major leagues
Where big hit's are guaranteed
The Ken Griffey turbo 850 professional MC
One more time that cat Defari
With a sting operation so blatant
We call it franchise
Man sign, independent on some enterprise
It's time to shoot straight, innovate
And make the world realize
That mics get ripped, and spots get blown
I strive to be a Golden State all-time great
Like J-Ro
I gets burned when the Technics turn
On mix shows and mix tapes
That you hear when a car
Turns left on the street
You know that shit that make you bounce
'Nuf respect to Rasco and Evidence
Yo hold it down on the mound
I'm not like Hideo, don't got it Nomo
I'm more like Randy Johnson
Guaranteed heat for sure
Yo this that way where the
Big hit's are guaranteed
This ain't no minor league affair
This here the major leagues
You in the batter's box ready for combat
(what?) but when you step up to the
Plate better bring it fat

I throw spitballs and sliders
And hit batters with attitude
The signal's in, and my catcher's 'Fari Herut
I got to risin on the mound
Talkin at pen-point
Retire the side, put on a jacket
Ice my joints
And body parts, world-wide, Evidence is known
Have you fallin out the batter's
Box when curves are thrown
Precise angles, I disect the strategy
No cost and just cause I choose to
Wander don't mean I'm lost
I got the button-up jersrey
Dilated written in cursive
I spill my heart to wax and
Put the knocker in the open
Three men against nine players, yo
That shit's unheard of
Plus my eyes are open in takin' folks scope
One cat got on base but
He didn't learn his lesson
I faked to first and picked him off at second
Patience is a virtue
Yo he couldn't understand
That cat's out, time wait's for no man
Bust it

Don't front
This where the big hit's are guaranteed
This ain't no minor league affair
This here the major leagues
You in the batter's box ready for combat
(what?) but when you step up to the plate

It be the large caliber rhyme
Ask yourself why try
Microphone slash Rasco Defari
Evidence, rhymes that set the precedence
Straight out the box, MCs to bobby sox
Major league, set to intrigue you small fee
Nothin' to the game
We doused them small flames take names
Head for the fence, we track prints
Track down the scent
Then fold your whole tent stay bent
The illest on rhymes at all times
Call your bullpen
Rasco just pulled into the lot
Be strikin em out with one shot
While your pitch be hittin the
Plate at one spot down the pipe
The major lieutenant that earn stripes
Bet strap in, cadet to captain
Stand up, better yet, put them hands up
And watch the triple threat come
Fuck them plans up smack niggas
With lyrical gems that sayin hymns
Niggas still rappin 'bout clothes
And car rims man debted
But dishin that corn, you get spreaded
We runnin on supreme, you runnin on unleaded
Couldn't match, you out the line-up
You been scratched sittin on the bench, not
Feelin you one pinch, in the trench
We loadin the guns to stack funds
Went from stackin ones to
Stackin them one huns scored runs
The hotter the bat, the more fat
It's Dilated, Ras, 'Fari, we bust back
Like that, like that, like that, like that
Like that y'all, like that, check it
Yo this that way where the
Big hit's are guaranteed
This ain't no minor league affair
This here the major leagues
You in the batter's box ready for combat
(what?) but when you step up to the
Plate better bring it fat don't front