Tanya Morgan - The Warm Up lyrics

And I happen to know my
Man Ilyas ain't scared
And as for Donwill? Why don't you tell 'em
Don?

I'm scared never each line prepared clever
Whatever the topic, stop! You dare never
Your fans is fairweather
The parade gets rained on
But they ain't fair to you when
Someone puts our tape on
With the game but ain't wrong
We all complain
Ya'll don't write to right it
Bring excitement or try to change it
Blame it on the industry, fans and videos
But for all the fingerpointing
Point it at the pointless promo
Tanya Mo, we do it low budget
Cause we love it
Running track and cross country
Il, you got me?

Gimme a break and when it's fat
That shit's fat like a cliché I didn't say
Nell Carter for the hard of comprehension
And all I ask is that you bring
Your mind and wallet to the listening
Man, a penny for my thoughts? I
Think I'm getting ripped off
Matter of fact, I know I am
Hey yo, cut this mic off, man

Yo, we gotta spit something too
It's two more members in the group

We're not gonna rhyme for free no more
Ilyas, no flowing
I wanna hear you speak to 'em

My cloak conceals the dagger
My throat conceals blasphemy
Listening to you bastards
Left my ears atrophied
I'd rather do like Pootie Tang
And do my thing besides
The arrows pointing to the left but that's
Because I never rewind it, just eject it
Now my eject button's looking naked
And faded i can't take it
The other day, got stranded in the snow
Should've heard the weather report
But can't stand the radio
Thanks to you, No thanks to them
My pastor said he was a fan
And now we can't be friends
Then I was about to sex this cutie one night
And your video came on and
The mood wasn't right
Man, you're ruining my life
I'm gonna kill you
Just because you get on my nerves
Doesn't mean I feel you until you
Stop being Wack the Rapper
I'll be Jack the Ripper
In the shadows waiting to axe ya'

Why are you so ill, man

But ya'll had to come and show me up
So I have to do something
I have to defend myself

Check it out

Super duper emcee dupes and stupors emcees
Try saying that three times fast
When I spit you ns wish that
You could rewind faster
The streamline master
That says stuff that rhymes
I'm amongst the kind of cats you wait for
I was battling there
You can tell, it's taped off
Giving you a beat is like
SPAM with steak sauce
Chance is slimmer than Kate Moss
Lyrical bastard von been lyrically active
Ya'll was just bad kids
Pissing your mattress
I shouldn't even have to say this
But eff it, this cat's the greatest
An effing fantastic playlist
Look, I don't mean to brag
But, I don't even have an actual studio
And I'm still magically musical
Von Pea, Il, and Donwill
The captains as usual