Album: Santa's Swingin' Sack, 1998
Title: BLUES FOR X-MAS
Blues for Christmas (...Christmas)
Baby, I ain't got a dime
Blues for Christmas (...Christmas)
Baby, I ain't got a frickin dime
I'm just standin' here wasted (...wasted, wasted)
Hangin' my head down, baby, and cryin' (...cryin', cryin')
Baby, I'm cryin'
Santa Clause (...Santa Clause, Clause), bring my baby back home
See I ain't got a lotta money
But my baby she's rich enough for us
both
Blues for Christmas (...Christmas)
I'm as blue as I can be
Blues for Christmas
Baby, I'm as blue as I can be
I'm just sittin' here drinkin'
Tryin' to drink my baby back to me
Santa Clause (...Santa Clause,
Clause), bring my baby back home
Blues for Christmas
Ain't no time to be home alone
I can't lose these Christmas blues
Baby, I just can't seem to shake'em
Helped so many hearts
All I seem to do is break'em, yeah break'em
I say I break'em, baby
Album: Today LP
Title: SOME NIGHTS (Are Better Than Others)
Some nights are better than others
Some fights are left to bum brothers
Some nights are better than others
Some fights are left to bum brothers
You know the freaks come out at night with the drama
I'm a break it down, take it down, learn it
Roll it up, burn it, think it
Stir it up, drink it, swallow it
Follow it straight to the heart of the matter
Program the data, turn on the lights
Watch them all scatter, from the shine off the glean
Course by my team, it's the high pro glow
One for the show, two for the handgun
Three, the one you man run when it's time for the action
All the stories you told are bound to get old
When your hands ain't as fast as the words you flippin'
Word to Scottie Pippin, got to be trippin'
You must have been slippin', or want the ass whippin'
It's time to start flippin'
CHORUS X3
Some nights are better than others
Break it down to the bare root essence
Some fights are left to bum brothers
Count your fingers then count your
blessins
They say blood runs thicker than water
Mothers to sons, bullets to guns
Hard times a spreadin', just like the flu
The voodoo child don't need to be raised
I'm no kid act wild son, you might get blazed
Like an acid hit, I rock classic shit
That can make your head bump, put some shake in your rump
This ain't Forrest Gump but I got mad rhyme
Why you shoot that gun, I'm a shoot this gift
Leave you internally perplexed like the question if
Some hit the spliff, some of y'all sniff
Some clap the hammer when they pull a four fifth
But most of y'all fry, kid let's be blunt
You try to be the man I be on the man
hunt
CHORUS X8
Title: WHITEY'S REVENGE
Whitey’s Revenge
What? Did I hurt your feelings?, I'm supposed to be scared now right?
Yo, I'd like to dedicate this record right here to Mr. Marshall Mathers mother,
yeah, here's one for your moms..
Here come the Mighty the one they call Whitey
All you sons of Whitey are all dick biters
So wont that bitch Slim Shady please act up, get smacked up, get your eyes blacked up
With your candy ass name your a candy ass rapper
I'll smack you up, shut you up like the clapper
Whoever said you were raw son they lied, I know that shit I spun on Dialated hurt your pride
Screaming on a record how you wish I'd died, but you don't want to see me on this physical side
Your just a fake tough guy, trying to act hard, who wont walk a lobby without your boddy gaurd
You aint' pulling my card, you ain't ridding a train,
back in the day kids like you got robbed for their chain! (hahahah)
STep to me like a man, with the hands, get slain, in fact when you see me, give me some brain
Yo it's like that, we can fight jack, let's put the mics down, you'll catch a beat down
I get love in NY, got fam in LA and I hear you might be the MC that's gay
With your platinum blonde Ceaser, you look like a Ho, Like M & M stands for Marilyn Monroe
Talking about Killing sprees you ain't like that Yo, Making lots of enemies but that's all for show
You punk Extacy junkie, you waste of skills, Stop riding my bills, stay high on pills
Boy I hope you OD, don't be playing with me, little bitch need to watch what you're saying to me
Talking shit for shock value boy you ain't real, Turned hard the day Dre' gave you a record deal
You went and sold your soul for some mass appeal, serving up that orderve now eat this meal
Instead of worrying about who you should be dissing, you need to worry about who your wifey been kissing
Or if you go to prison while your doing your bid, I'll look in on your lady and do things for your kid
Make them write you lots of letters about the things that we did, Send pictures of me chilling all up in your crib
And that shit about swaying kid that was a fib, first ti met you I showed you love in DC
But you were scared like a bitch with your eyes on teh floor, while your crew showed me love outside the front door
Talking bout "yo, what's up ain't you whitey ford?", I love that song "what it's like" and that jam raise the lord
I don't do this for the money, yo I do it for fun, You may hang around some gangsters but yo, you ain't one
and you won't be slapping me with no empty gun, talking about a fag, but you the one in drag,
and you can't keep your woman from going astray, better runa nd check your kid for your DNA (HAHAHAHH!)
I take care of my moms, you get sued
by yours, with your corny metaphores about drugs and crack whores
Your a SUCKA! word up, for real, you want to talk shit money, come talk it with the hands B,
I ain't wasting no more time with you man, that's it...