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Denver Harbor - Trouble Man lyrics
(*Begins with piano*)
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
 [Buddy Slim]
 I declare war 
 The joy becomes a rappifyin weapon 
 If you step in 
 When your draws get mobbed behind enemy lines
 You become a sittin duck but fuck 
 I ain't givin em livin trifle 
 The pen and pad becomes a 12 gauge rifle 
 This is no laughing matter 
 Step into this you step in a minefield 
 Your body's scattered 
 You people drop pickin up the pieces 
 But only corny niggas 
 The attack from a brotha like the Buddy never ceases 
 Without a moment of silence the violence thickens
 So if you ain't got it together you slim pickings 
 Shorts and prisoners are never taken 
 If you fakin all the booty competition 
 I'm a bag fuck a white flag 
 Get down and dirty like a brotha in the trench 
 Leave a nigga dead and stinkin as he wonders what his stench is 
 I'm bustin clip after clip 
 My artillery will funk on the punk 
 When ya wanna test my shit
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
 [Breezly Brewin]
 Tell it to hell is it
 I feel my brain swell like meningitis 
 With the slightest mind motion 
 Givin me the notion
 That I got it bad 
 I think I got a brain tumor 
 Brain rumor 
 Such a pain to analyze the strain and then understand it
 The seed was planted
 That shit is ill but still 
 The thought I'm lovin got the dome growin 
 With the biscuit in the oven 
 Shovin nothin but the nutrients 
 My diet to support me
 A whiff of the spliff Denver Harbor - Trouble Man - http://motolyrics.com/denver-harbor/trouble-man-lyrics.html
 A guzzle of the forty to inspire fire thought
 To the mic there was marriage
 Causin competition 
 Verbal miscarriage of the mental fetus 
 Greet us with the rugged rhythm then I'm showin
 I think I feel my water breakin thus I'm flowin
 Timin my contractions 
 Concentratin on my breathin
 Heavin curses at the father he has the funk 
 Cuz if I flunk my shit ain't livin
 Pushin givin every bit of what I'm worth 
 And as the Brewin drops the lyrical 
 The miracle of birth
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
 [Buddy Slim]
 I be the sick ass brotha, nasty ass nigga 
 A phony motherfucker grave digga 
 I know this sounds rough 
 But I had enough to funk 
 So part of me the heart of me
 So if you corny nigga 
 It's like cloggin up my artery 
 You cuttin circulation 
 So now it's do or die 
 While niggas always try to test my shit
 Only preservation of the funk is why I kick this
 As I give a simple diagnosis of the sickness
 [Breezly Brewin]
 Now upon the fruits of my labor 
 Your ear feasts 
 The beast from within 
 It's some shit ain't it
 The picture painted 
 From the use of a noun and a verb might disturb 
 We make you say, "Damn that nigga's crazy" 
 Well if we crazed, deranged well then we fittin
 If you say the world's a normal place
 Who the fuck you kiddin?
 Your mind's blind if you say you haven't seen this
 As I walk the fine line between insanity and genius
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
(*Fades out with piano*)








