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Artist: Quez f/ Fit
Album:  Declaring Shenanigans!!!
Song:   Teaching Moments
Typed by: @QuezThePoet

And this here is Quez town
Population 5000 outy and I'm gone
You niggas kick rocks I hit the street stoned
Like Owen Heart fall off the dome when the beet come on
I'll challenge any emcee to compete come on
Got heat spit fire then speak come on
But it's a pity they won't so I got to go and get em
In the city they call home and I'll still evict them
Seal Team 6 em, covert operation
Rhymes deeper than the US occupation of Iraq
In the bush era ever so clever I'm on that
Bomb sac purple hazed if you not then fall back
Man you killing my high, and I'm killing the scene
They may have the game sewn but I'm the split in the seam
I am what's tipping the beam I am the chip on the shoulder
Plus I'm hip hops Jon Stewart and Fit he's Steve Colbert

And we come here to teach a little lesson how it's done here
And show you how the rhyme can go in one ear
And not come out the other
That's how we knock them niggas out the box take cover

Cause one year we'll be the only ones that you'll wanna hear
And covet these records like they're something dear
And never go back
To that bullshit you listened to compared it now it's whack

Ayyo, mic in my blunt hand; blunt in my ear
whole world looking at me like I'm something to fear
'cos them brain scans light up in the front and the rear
when these words stimulate you and them drums that you hear
start blending and seeping under your skin
the ending looks more like the beginning; hip-hop is thinning the herd
and we done out MCs that think venom
is leaking from their pen when they frequent the latest trends
with nerve like Westboro accusations of sinning
defending themselves as artists, bottom of ninth inning
your light's dimming; still see the writing on the wall
my lyrics the direct effect of dying for a cause
you lying for applause then crying for the law
when the picture gets painted for you, but iron's all they draw
(New School Soldiers) I'm out of retirement for ya'll
yelling "fire in the hole!" while you try and hold the wall

Ayyo, MCs are empty or full of shit simply
my pen bleeds and blood clots on tracks leave you in need
of a transfusion stat. My operation table's full of rap labels
and industry cats who spit fables in fact
for racks on racks and mass appeal
they'll get you all gassed up without your last meal
suggest that ass chill when heads get hot
vengeance is mine whether hip-hop is dead or not

Yo, I'm crazy like a fox you crazy like fox news
Or misinformed maybe well baby I drop jewels
Let me paraphrase myself I spit a haiku
That will crush ya whole 16 bars so very rude
We making moves cross state lines to bury dudes
On the mic leave a trail from here to Kalamazoo
Them back to the avenue where we locally challenge crews
Put some smoke in the air and even out our attitudes