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Artist: Bronze Nazareth f/ Salute
Album:  Thought for Food: Vol. 1 & 2
Song:   To the Table
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Salute]
Uh-huh, whoo, whoo
I'm feeling this fucking beat...
Bronze, you a fool for this one, baby
Good looking out for this one, uh-huh
Yo, yo, yo, uh-huh

Aiyo, fuck some 22's, I'd rather buy a four-four
While you jumps looking pretty, I'm preparing for war
I'm like that nigga on the bench, man, ready to score
You can tell that I'm anxious, frustration in my face
Ain't nobody put me here, had to earn my place
Talk a couple loses, dog, but I'm still in the race
So fuck fronting for a bitch, man, I'm try'nna get rich
Paid in full like Ace Boogie, making money like Mitch
While you clowns stop in whips, man I'm playing with ships
Smoking purple, staying focused, while I sip on a fifth
My man Bronze put me on, so you know I'mma do it
Keep this ill shit moving, keep it flowing like fluid
Went from guns to the mic, so I rep for the streets
For my niggas in them cellblocks, according to beef
Through all the pains and the struggle, how the fuck could I sleep
Plus I'm hungry, muthafucka, can't rest til I eat

[Interlude: Bronze Nazareth]
Yeah, ya'll niggas know me, man (Black Day in July)
Know what the fuck I represent (Wu-Tang, nigga)
Word up..

[Bronze Nazareth]
We in the sweatshop, we work hard on our jobs
Dark mind, the whole block, and proj' Monks taking shots
Brazilian psychic villains, days blacker than Exxon spillage
Taught the Pillage, paper stacking, fuck the milledge
My spirits from the kingdom of Kush, get drunk with Jenna Bush
She like "Yo, Bronze, I love how you cook"
When fans spit the sun out, they turn to onyx daze
My moon's bright, spend white nights in an angel's gaze
Thought three tantrum's, man, you script, pretty as your daughter's kiss
Black clouds, high noon, rain on the nemesis
Words made the Qu'ran pages, you never stood by
So I thought so clear, as a man's breathe in winter time
You saluted the Jesus feet, burn like a furnace
Voice like Russian waters of Vodka from a thermos
Half baked brain case, love how your dame taste
You salvage welfare mid-week, see how I keep dates
Blunts in snake skin coils, I gotta alotta time soil
Throw it on coffins, with nails from Mars called
Swimfan bitches, pools of pre-cum in my britches
Wipe it on her fat ass, fuck tissues
Prime and the son of Mary, Ash-uar' repents
Throw in the rhythm, land through these bars like I escaped prison
Out risen like locust in the mars of Liam Seal
Terrorize lines like Wu signs in Mel Gibson fields