Artist: Oblique Brown Album: Oblique Brown Song: Chee MalaWho? Typed by: graham_moonlight@yahoo.com [Verse 1] Malabar, vocal's pop like shots from shotguns sawed Rap's Scratch Perry mixed with bits of Coxson Dodd I––brought some bars, I––talks 'em hard On my walls, no plaques, just the tongues of slaughtered squads ... Don't answer to no gods at no temple, synogogue, No church or the mosque just the culture's 5 pillars, Emceein' is my hajj start trippin', get maimed, they scream "strains of Jihad" Not Master Fard Muhammad, but that bastard Chirag And I want it all yall, them Aston's in ya garage To the stone studded broaches on the bras of ya broads ... Give a fuck who applauds dog, this is real (Israel) intelligence, shades of Mossad uh, played the odds and strayed from the Mirage and went from an, iron fist in a velvet glove façade to manhandlin' beats with this brass-knuckle massage [Hook] (Chee ain't no joke) (But he's got no dough) (He's got dope flows) (Man, he's just so so) (We got lo-pros, hoes on the hoe stroll we got coco, to keep ya nose froze) (Oh bro! Motherfuck what you sayin your off beat DJ, if anything he play sound familiar, I'll wait till Zeeb say. slay 'em) [Verse 2] Squandered a few nights, got up in some new Nikes Walk like a pimp, but talk my age, not my shoe size Spit on crews, give 'em weather, when they asked for news bytes Dead a rapper's career, hit his wake screamin' "Who's Live!" .......Man I'm livin' for this rap shit but half of it's slapstick and no one crafts a classic its four finger rings, Benzes and spinner rims cause America won't buy it unless we pander to its ignorance .......Cause if its filtered through intelligence they'd have to stare square at the ivory tusked elephants in the room, and I guess you'd be relevant but nah, stick your ass out so your sponsorship can poke it as I cram a phrase in this space till the page is claustrophobic and it leaps off in angst and hope like Monster Cody wrote it listen homey, sign over the check and run it I ain't the One, I'm all of Urb's nex One Hundred! [Hook] (Chee ain't no joke) (But he's got no dough) (He's got dope flows) (Man, he's just so so) (We got lo-pros, hoes on the hoe stroll we got coco, to keep ya nose froze) (Oh bro! Motherfuck what you sayin your off beat DJ, if anything he play sound familiar, I'll wait till Zeeb say. slay 'em) [Verse 3] Brown man in a white world, live it through Black music Scrapped my way out the crab barrel, got the scabs to prove it Shadow my movements, I shadow box till noon hits And splits my shadow in two and I bask in its newness ... At times the feud shifts up against the ropes, getting' pummeled, man I jab through it fuck a Larry Merchant sermon homes, I move at Harry's urging and he's screamin' "Attack, kill, show 'em your granite will" ... I don't fit your standard bill built from raw nerves like that man-child in the Catskills I'm sick, they just act ill Bunch of hypochondriac cats with a bag of bad pills Trying to swim in talent pools with sharks, but they lack gills . .and their whole album sounds like a gag-reel Hog tie their steez and cook 'em up on Cadillac grills And chill, let the Cognac spill [Hook] (Chee ain't no joke) (But he's got no dough) (He's got dope flows) (Man, he's just so so) (We got lo-pros, hoes on the hoe stroll we got coco, to keep ya nose froze) (Oh bro! Motherfuck what you sayin your off beat DJ, if anything he play sound familiar, I'll wait till Zeeb say. slay 'em)