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Artist: Bronze Nazareth f/ RZA
Album:  School for the Blindman
Song:   Fresh from the Morgue
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Chorus 2X: Bronze Nazareth]
Nigga, I'm ill, fresh from the morgue
Teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill, fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone, trade my lawn for a shore

[Bronze Nazareth]
Nigga, I'm ill, chains still the back of a gorilla
Record so sharp, DJ's slash they finger
We chop trees, never yelling timber
Float off of leaves, caught from weeds of Magellan drifter
Off the Richter, scale, triple beam, coffee lifter
Subliminal, seminal, often lifted
Incredibly criminal, how they doze off on a discus
Breakfast is my lunch, the feds heard my song, now they wanna search my trunk
Told them got that white, and make sheets of that numb
Photocopy bright, I'm the sun in your palm
Turn them zombie white, like that sickness that I'm on
Impregnate the song, Molotov tossed, detonating off my balls
Take what I want, you niggas still begging
And I don't got no jewelry to flaunt, I brought a building
Sicilians and gold Brazilians, all on my lap like pavilions
If anyone dare touch 'em, they might as well commit 'em

Bobby Steels and Bronze Nazareth, combinations, too hazardous
The inflictions, the past descriptions, blown by known adjectives
Beyond fabulous, the small star's an asterisk
While I descend from the most high, create the star catalyst
Crumble MC's, keep a pocket full of crumbled cheese
Not a tuna fish, but I been in the can with bumble bees
Rah's ill, sickness can't be cured by small pills
Take large corporate checks and cash 'em to small bills
Keep the gat in the shoulder strapped, quicker then a Kodak snap
Twist a nigga wig back, like a fucking soda cap
Nigga, ain't supposed to rap, I make movies
Them boys poke they chest out, like they fake boobies
Put some D's on it, put some cheese on it
The blunt is split open, nigga, put some trees on it
Illicit explicit, ballistic, rap mystic
Got more rhymes then beats, then I can ever silicate
So I give you a freebie, you better smile when you see me
Popping on your silver screen, upon your TV
B.O.B.B., Y? Because we like you
D.I.G.I.T.A.L., still hard as hell, and rock bells
Motherfucker, flip the head, I take the tails
They must of missed it, son, the digit
They didn't know we had jelly on the biscuit, huh
Son, they foolish, why would this muthafucker risk it
Just to become, another police statistics
Bob is ill ill ill, Bob is ill
Bronze is ill ill ill, Bronze is ill

[Bronze Nazareth]
I'm an insane cocaine cowboy
That mean I ride the beat like a white horse, propane out poor
I'm out for a bank account, fish scale drought war
My trout raw, like Lust Jones, salute to the outlaw
I'mma sprout raw like a tumor and branch out
Devote fans bottle neck, the venue, I air it out
I'm the air that ya'll niggas don't hear about
They scared to say my name five times in the mirror, now
Everything clearer now, I'm proactive, cuz I clear 'em out
Abort mission, tear 'em out the frame, you an old picture
You a field negro, you an old pitcher
On the grind, past your prime, I'mma spring chicken
Spring training all you lame victims
My blade dripping, mary jane henchman, higher plain intention
You McCane reaching, I'm so ill, bring in the nurses to see 'em
My bitch purses bulimic, you reason up my per diem
Seeing the beats leave stiffer then vegans dees on the victim
My ninja hit me with these vintage words of wisdom
You hang with four broke niggas, be the fifth one

Bob is ill ill, son, Bob is ill
Bronze is ill ill ill, Bronze is ill
Killa Hill, Bob is ill ill, son, Bob is ill
Bronze is ill ill, dun, Bronze is ill
Bronze is ill ill, son, Bronze is ill
Killa Hill

[Chorus 2X]