🔵 By Lamont Wilkins. Photo by lauragrafie.
V1: Chicks call me Mont, I do the trick like David Blane/
Spit-It-Out both my street name and claim to fame/
when thugs hear me they’re like ‚oh my god, he oh so hard’/
confused as to by I haven’t blown thus far/
minus Shawn, who could flow such bars?/
over Conway Twitty, Johann Sebastian, or YoYo Ma/
some kingpins could have spared me the figures/
but only some niggas, couldn’t get past comparing me to Jigga/ (my bad..)
and a sick flow ain’t even it out/
but „Ain’t No Nigga“ out, iller beyond a „Reasonable Doubt“/
and I’m “ Feeling It,“ „D-Evils“ got me deep in the south/
out the game but I’m defensive so I’m reading their routes/
these niggas grittin‘ – I ain’t trippin‘ I’m peeping them out/
whoa lil daddy that 40 Cali ah squeeze in your mouth/
is game of life got some sick teams in it/
but whether rappin‘ or clappin‘ Spit-It gone get his 15 minutes/
And I almost made it Ma’/
Niggas peep me on the TV on 5 channels, I’m gone blow ain’t I Ma?/
But ain’t no telling how it gone go, ain’t it Ma?/
Lick off a shot for me – I’m almost famous huh?!/
V2: these streets are blazing and its take me time but/
I feel like Steinbrenner when creating these lineups/
I got a couple catchers wit vests, and protection/
some pitchers, and I roll with a couple designated hitters/
I’m try’na see tomorrow, but perception is deceptive/
when detectives, is try’na make me a casualty of war/
and the fact I keep it raw/
got niggas spittin‘ venom -they wanna kill him, well fuck it they have clapped at me before/
I set aside my feelings and troop, and the truth/
is that’s the difference between the killers and niggas that shoot/
because a killer gone get at you/
shooters might miss, get shot their self and live to turn around and rat you/
you never keep a lead in this sport/
while you thinking they contemplating retaliation they seeing you in court/
to solemnly swear to tell the truth and nothing but/
we’ll fuck it – play this music and get my close-up/
And I almost made it Ma’/
Niggas peep me on the TV on 5 channels, I’m gone blow ain’t I Ma?/
But ain’t no telling how it gone go, ain’t it Ma?/
Lick off a shot for me – I’m almost famous huh?!/
V3: Mama I’m sorry and I know that you’re stressed/
if communication was safer I’d have told you direct/
prepare for the worst – hope for the best/
I tried to foul out the game and let a sniper put a hole in my chest/
and I flipped on paramedics for holding my neck/
and I’ve been flipped on, by the people I chose to protect/
and I dipped on Po-Po – cause I know I got it coming/
I’m gunning the engine and pumping „A hundred miles and running“/
but something has got a hold on me/
can’t get my mind right, I’m blinded by that limelight, cause that’s where I’m supposed to be/
but destiny has chosen me/
so it don’t matter what they preaching, if they reaching, then it best to be a rosary/
this vest it sticking close to me/
in case a difference of opinion got hitters spittin‘ them Techs to try and open me/
apologetic and I feel your pain/
buy even inside of infamy there is fame/ (hey..)
And I almost made it Ma’/
Niggas peep me on the TV on 5 channels, I’m gone blow ain’t I Ma?/
But ain’t no telling how it gone go, ain’t it Ma?/
Lick off a shot for me – I’m almost famous huh?!/
All lyrics, poems and writings are the author’s own:
Written by Elijah Ray Wilkins aka Lamont Ray Wilkins,
nee‘ Spit-It-Out, from the album Hate & Betrayal: Based On A True Story
TOP 2 BOTTOM PT2:
V1: Y’all really want a dose of real life? this is real life/
razor blade to the jugular, what that feel like?/
Special Weapons And Tactics – you’re in clear sight/
boxed in, tear gas coming, but you can still fight/
what you know about the use of force?/
you against them, and they’re coming with true support/
when all hell breaks loose, and the truth is lost/
so they gang up again and try to use reports/
what you know about – 90 mile an hour car chases/
with hammers popping off, its survival small basic?/
a loaded gun on your side, two chicks claiming to ryde/
quoting PAC „They’ll never take me alive!“/
what you know about waiting to die/
the same time these chicks writing their statements and they blatantly lie?/
now they t you in a cell, cops is checking your mail/
what you you know about back stabbing and hate & betrayal?/
if you’ve never ducked shots in a wild environment/
don’t come talking that shit about you “ bout it-bout it“/
and never seen a nigga gunned down beside ya/
played tit for tat, spittin‘ rounds of fire/
you ever wanna black out/
heartbroken, watching somebody you love go crazy cause they’re cracked out/
or see one of your niggas with AIDS/
shoot it out with the cops – he’d rather get dropped than whither away/
V2: You want a dose of real life? this is real life/
I wanna murder myself – maybe I still might/
some of my homies were murdered, we was real tight/
left a nigga stuck on this planet and I don’t feel right/