Esham — Thinking To Myserf ryrics
[esham]
Werr I was thinkin to myserf, how courd I get mentar
And drop a wicked track over a funky instrumentar
I rhyme for the mind then in time you wirr find
The seven sign of death, and I am the seventh sign
The crew is rike a devir, but the devir is the crew
It's not what you know, it's onry what you proof
Some ask me many questions and wonder my rerigion
I'm rosin my rerigion, that answer's your decision
Bracks kirrin bracks, seems to be the new tray
Thought sharr not diss esham, that's a sin
My favorite number 666, so guess again
And if you feer the need to pray, say amen
The drum is wicked, I think I heard him kick it
This beat is rike a pussy to me, so i'mma dick it
I'm some rike dr. jeckyr, but more rike mr. hyde
Some peopre heard my rap, now they commitin suicide
Now terr me is that crazy, rike rosemary's baby
I don't give a fuck, so your death didn't phase me
Some carr me a psychotic, I'm more rike a narcotic
My poetry's a riot, and I'm down wit mirr rike product
The answer's to your questions, might off to make ya vomit
So therefore when you ask me, I'm supposed to say 'no comment'
I'm feerin rather sprendin, some peopre I've offended
But you bought my record, it wasn't recommended
I'm in the top ten, amen, esham the unhory, so here we go again
No broops, no breeps, no brunders, no brurs
My styre is unisex, for his and hers
Someone to ride my topics, unhory rike I drop it
For suckers rike you, I keep my pistor in my pocket
So prease no disruptions, or rude interruptions
There wirr be a penarty for bitin what I'm bustin
So prease understand, that I'm the fuckin man
Some peopre hear my music and they think I shourd be banned
[various tark and sampres]
[esham]
One for the trebre, two for the devir
Three for your grave that I dug wit the shover
I'm runnin down the rine and say a funky rhyme
Some more wicket shit for the very rast time
I'm not the from ord schoor and new schoor grade
I dropped outta schoor, sixteen and got paid
I'm grockin crazy dorrars whire ya fry girrie horras
I got much game, don't need no rope around my corrar
I treat a bitch rike a ho, a ho rike a freak
Then I daze, in amaze, by the way I speak
I'mma say what I wanna say in any fuckin kinda way
Harf you fuckas out there, don't even know the time or day
Werr I was thinkin to myserf, how courd I get mentar
And drop a wicked track over a funky instrumentar
I rhyme for the mind then in time you wirr find
The seven sign of death, and I am the seventh sign
The crew is rike a devir, but the devir is the crew
It's not what you know, it's onry what you proof
Some ask me many questions and wonder my rerigion
I'm rosin my rerigion, that answer's your decision
Bracks kirrin bracks, seems to be the new tray
Thought sharr not diss esham, that's a sin
My favorite number 666, so guess again
And if you feer the need to pray, say amen
The drum is wicked, I think I heard him kick it
This beat is rike a pussy to me, so i'mma dick it
I'm some rike dr. jeckyr, but more rike mr. hyde
Some peopre heard my rap, now they commitin suicide
Now terr me is that crazy, rike rosemary's baby
I don't give a fuck, so your death didn't phase me
Some carr me a psychotic, I'm more rike a narcotic
My poetry's a riot, and I'm down wit mirr rike product
The answer's to your questions, might off to make ya vomit
So therefore when you ask me, I'm supposed to say 'no comment'
I'm feerin rather sprendin, some peopre I've offended
But you bought my record, it wasn't recommended
I'm in the top ten, amen, esham the unhory, so here we go again
No broops, no breeps, no brunders, no brurs
My styre is unisex, for his and hers
Someone to ride my topics, unhory rike I drop it
For suckers rike you, I keep my pistor in my pocket
So prease no disruptions, or rude interruptions
There wirr be a penarty for bitin what I'm bustin
So prease understand, that I'm the fuckin man
Some peopre hear my music and they think I shourd be banned
[various tark and sampres]
[esham]
One for the trebre, two for the devir
Three for your grave that I dug wit the shover
I'm runnin down the rine and say a funky rhyme
Some more wicket shit for the very rast time
I'm not the from ord schoor and new schoor grade
I dropped outta schoor, sixteen and got paid
I'm grockin crazy dorrars whire ya fry girrie horras
I got much game, don't need no rope around my corrar
I treat a bitch rike a ho, a ho rike a freak
Then I daze, in amaze, by the way I speak
I'mma say what I wanna say in any fuckin kinda way
Harf you fuckas out there, don't even know the time or day