Oral Sex (’99) lyrics

[Scratches: Evil Dee]
Death on the phono, my skills are porno
You say 'oh no', you b*tch ass homo

[Verse 1: Ras Kass]
I'mma kick it to y'all frankly
So all you weak n*ggas can hate me
Jealous cause they know I'm the sh*t, like Mr. Hankey
Reintroducing Ras Kass, the waterproof
I'm too deep, you Too $hort
Standin' on two feet, drownin' in two feet, kapeesh?
I defy the feat by defecating on beat
f*ck how you feel
I've got an oral fixation with spitting liquefied razors
So ill that they cut through steel
So if my album ever sell 3 mil
I'm slashing every rapper with a deal
Every n*gga with a video look like Seal
'Kiss From a Rose' - Not, more like a peck from Jada'
Even with a spectator
Ranked this n*gga 45 in Blaze 50 greatest MCs
Good looking but I beg to differ, though
Body of evidence
My molecular structure based on the table of elements
I'm CmH4, NL3, IV3, PGe2, Rb4, PmS4, Br1, At5
I'm complex with curriculums combined
A next level innovator with invigorating rhymes
Plus slightly thugged out, but revolutionary with minds
Spit my message with grime
Five years ahead of my time
Two thousand and five
I'mma be that n*gga beatin' down traffic cops at stop signs
Now put that in your glass di*k and smoke it
Who the dopest? if Ras spoke it, loc'est
The most focused wrote the opus, Nature of the Threat
Fost focus richest the bok'est could get it like
I'm sexually transmitted, bidditch
Yeah, yeah, Evil D make it ill for me, spit it
[Scratches]
"Death on the phono, my skills are dolo
You say 'oh no', you b*tch ass homo"

[Verse 2: Ras Kass]
It's that underground b-boy sh*t, just a beat and a rhyme
As simplified as a heat and a crime
True lyricists always get felt
Cause I rarely masturbate dog, but I always be feelin' myself
I rep' Golden State Warriors, I rep' The Horsemen
Get p*ssy drunk and forced to pray to porcelain
God, I'm worse than Cupid, stupid
Love is Lust, so my glands release hollow point endorphins
b*tch n*gga, I'm mighty morphin' into a larson
Forcin' grown men into a forced a-dult abortion
Make it scorchin' hot to death then drop it arctic
So MCs shatter like glass next time a n*gga sparks sh*t
Make sense, even if I don't make dollars
Asiatic ghetto scholar
Y'all grafted like seedless grapes and rottweilers
My hoochie b*tches pop that pus*y while my pimp n*ggas pop they collars
And pop stars- these the last days of disco
It's all about me-me-me-me-me
Cause I’m Mya with a big di*k, though, you faggot like Sisqo
You thumbs down six feet like Ebert & Gene Siskel
I'm blessed with my Father's complexion and my Mother's features
I'm unique, different from all other creatures
I be rocking a black doo rag tellin pigeons youse a motherf*ckin fool
And they be like 'you look like Ja Rule, but that's cool'
I guess all short, chocolate, chinky eyed n*ggas look alike, boo
Let the pen stroke, so the track have a heart attack
You blind, baby, give your cataracts cataracts
Matter of fact, face it, I'm just not the norm
More graphic than porn
I'm like eye witnessin' a matador get his rib cage crushed
Lung pulled by a raging bull's horn, I put it on like a uniform
What