Letra de ' Mingling ' de Grand Agent

It’s like farrakahn say, a new thing is happening today
It’s sweet to blaspheme beats when you ain’t got-ta pay
But the ancients stress patience. The agent knowledge ancients

If I take my time, what can I can’t spit
Don’t exist. The moment bliss, myself and I kiss
You know it’s bonafide, certified hotness

From the muthafreakin’ major deegan
To the 5 interstate. Mildly penetrate, like the khalua
Place the homogenized to bass I philosophize

Grace the demonic guys and space. I’m outta dodge
My interests include flow, love and war
The hip championship I’m thuggin’ for

So take the flyest rook’s rhyme book like a leak
And freak. Page 43: The jet beauty of the speak
Now I don’t really know but some city said

The grand came through, left this kid mic for dead
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
What up star? Word to kenneth, we ain’t in the same

You better off spectatin’, speculatin’ the aim
Rest assured, I got the fresh mature listeners locked
On some extra-next-texturized imagery stock

Inspired by only the desire to be
The mega-interworld poster man-child for emcee

Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim

If this ain’t ill, dub don’t commence wit the drum fill
And it don’t take a late night to make it tight
Willie bigger than a billy squier beat but comprehends

None of what I spead
Him see-through cuz him pretend
Now I don’t really know but some city said

The grand came through, left this kid mic for dead
From the front page of final call, genocide bellowed
They ain’t understand this kid mic was made of metal

I jetted though, runnin’ for good credit of course
Cuz rap shit own my life since james brown was the source
And girls act stupidly when I be spillin’ ‘em

Text like they chest was silicon and I was feelin’ em
But they numb, dumb in the skull as I be cold getting
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim, it’s soul-splittin’

Pick up the pieces like the bread that be Jesus
With the welch’s that’s the blood
I know you felt like half a thug

When I came in the door, spit somethin’ raw
Then broke fast like we on a twenty city tour
Yo, salaam-alaikum on behalf of the move-fakin’

Who’s bacon? Biblically, it’s mine for the takin’
Technically, the recipe is unwritten
Cuz all these gun smitten rappers just be fuelin’ the era

Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim
Ya minglin’ wit mayhem slim

This is the grand age
Clear the stage
Recommit. Get on some other shit

You in the grand age nigga. Clear the stage
Yom-sayin’
Bounce!