Viktor Vaughn - The Drop lyrics

Victor, a stranger to see you
Who that? Who that, who that?

If I'm not working or putting work in
I'm either wheeling and dealing
Or probably jerkin my
Yep listening to nothing
Taking no suggestions
Or destructive criticisms
That can't improve on perfection
Rock a crowd in sections on a good night
The hoes fight
Always get the dough first then
Everything else goes right
At least that's what they say and
Who the fuck is they?
Make a hick say "what the hey?"
Brought that chick from sick bay
Ensign, he shoulda asked his upperclassmen
Before he bust blast em
Never trust no Cardassians
Captain's log supplemental
The Klingons are now aboard
The Enterprise rental vessal
On my cue, photon torpedo
Oh and if I'm not on the block with Jorgito
And so on for the street though
Smoke a pound of leek though
I'm jokin on the fact that
Hip-hop has gone freakshow
Don't let the drama get you
In the only genre of music where
The fans shoot the messenger
Bitch niggas talk behind your
Back like a catcher
Either M-Y-O-B or B-Y-O-stretcher
In that order: man, woman, son, daughter
The beat sound like they underwater
Make it fun to slaughter
Even if you hear some wack shit
You never give a chance
Some shit sound like all you could
Do off it is river dance
It's not a hobby, don't be sloppy
Doing deals with these labels is
Likened to a botched robbery
Nobody supposed to get bodied, golly!
This shit is like a folly 'bout to cold flip
Probably it's not me
He got ill spills knot in Brooknam
Where even though kids kill they
Still chill and look calm
While working on new developments
For the book bomb in one bad experiment
It blew and took a hooker arm
("Arm and leg") bOW! look mom, no hand
Studied black magic for years out
In no man's land
It's like a barbecue, all-swine cookout
To fuck up they plans like
A blind man lookout
Cram to overstand it, peep it and absorb it
The same way he keep all the
Planets in they proper orbit
Norbit, y'all better off going corporate
Nobody wanna hear that bullshit
It's too morbid there's no prints
He hold the mic with a mic glove
And rolls dolo from state to
State like Ike Love
Like on top of the world loser keep it gully
Rap creeps seem they got too
Much juice in they belly
It's why they brung V he still hungry
And spit something thick on the
Mic like a lungy
Mind ya daughter she on line for the water
To get lucky like when she
Find a quarter kinda sorta remember me God
Clean timbs with emery board?
He only came to save the
Game like a memory card
Ooh shrewd, a lot of crews is too rude
And it's way too many let's not
And say we do dudes
He said 24-7 I be on call
He use his vacation days
To watch Babylon fall
Numbskulls get to stepping they dumb dull
And how he rep the mic is
Like the weapon from Krull
Cats be like "what's wrong
With your man black?"
Biohazard suit and Van Grack for the anthrax
Jeez and can't get no peace
Form blazin sword for the police robeast
Cochise, write a rhyme like a book report
And sell it to a rookie you could
Tell by the hook he bought
You ain't know he sell hooks and choruses?
They couldn't bang the slang if
They looked in thesauruses
It's like a friendly game of dodge ball
Oddball God y'all, who played the garage wall
With the Stan Smith's checkerboard lace
And the brand new INF they
Ain't check the boy waist
You saw his face? so who next
To get they neck chopped
Or popped like a Beck's top, respect the drop
It's too much wreck hops
Who next to get they neck chopped
Or popped like a Beck's top, respect the drop
Woopdie do flows do fifty like a hooptie do
Groupie crews try to figure out
From what coop he flew they out of place
Beats sounds like outer space
With no time to waste he
Was Audi without a trace