Too Phat - Ali Baba & The Mic Thieves
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TOO PHAT


Ali Baba & The Mic Thieves Lyrics

Verse 1

Ladies and gentlemen guess

Who's back in town

It's Too Phat and Phlowtron

Ay yo we runnin' it down

Breaking the barrier's of sound

Jealousy knows no bounds

Moving in three sixty degrees

Like a merry go round

Still red and warm

The blood that courses through my veins

Arising from the underground

Like a hydroplane

Smuggling in crack phlowcane

Where there's no pain

There's no gain

So I sustain my domain

In a mind frame that's untamed

Verse 2

Yes

Yes yes

I know I'm sick

I confess

Displays of finesse

When my raps manifest

You couldn't handle this

Till I'm hundred I spit tight

Can't battle me on the mic

We'll hit the streets and fist fight

I'm quick to dislike

The type that

Speak a cheap hype

How they gonna take me down

With frail tales

And weak psyche

Raps weak

Your style's mild

And a tad meek

Welcome to this game

Of hide and seek

With crazy mic freaks

Verse 3

Yo it's Khazanah the Khalled

I bled the ground red

Moses scarred through

The red sea

I speak what the future said

Resurrect hip-hop for the dead

This egomaniac's drive to ecstacy

So let the ground rules be laid

The kid with braces grace

The scene in this hiatus

Rebel reborn revive

Rehearse this verse

Verse 4

Yo five years now

Malique is an astonishing cat

We started off the same time

You still promising act

Now what your problem is black?

They say they callin' you back?

You still are shoppin' for your demos

While I'm polishin' plaques?

Should start your colleging back

Or start workin' like in Mc D's

At least you'll get some mack on

But minus the rap cheese

You mad G?

Start your cripwalk

And wanna smack me?

Please, a nation of asian Bloods

Are gonna back me

Verse 5

Ba' wit' granna wit' mini bonn

It's Atom Da'Bomb

Namaewa genshi bakudan

Inspectin' the kinda conduct

To contemplate

The kinda way

You cynics trynna put

The muthalovin' rhyme away

It's evident that we adament

About the element

Of this hip-hop commandment

Equivalent to utilising

This brilliant tool

I can prove

Coz I barry more wack emcees than drew

Verse 6

Panel of the jury

Witness this starscream

I represent

The infamous Phat Fam team

Exhibit number one

Murder raps on the run

Spittin' fireballs

We defy the sun

Burning principles

Killing bass

Distort your eardrums

Diagnose you with sun strokes

Spotted your headlumps

Defiance against us

Will lead to your misery

Nation of the three sixty

Verse 7

I'm sick of cats

Who wanna diss

But be acting like witches

Here some disses

To discompose disconcert

And hit ya'

I'm quick to disfigure

Any figure who wanna play

Swift with sharp blades

Discover I'm hard to dissuade

So keep your distance

Don't discomode

And disturb this verse

Disingenous punks

Disheartened best quick disperse

I'll distinguish haters

Who disunite the scene

And discard disgusting friends

With rap disabilities

Verse 8

I rhyme nice twice

So lemme entice you

On this mental heist

You hidden behind a screen

Never seen like a poltergeist

Take my advice

Up wit' us

And you pay the price

When it comes to street fights

I transform and y'all be looking

Like itty bitty mice

I spit out lines

Like a bad taste

Of chocolate mocha

Gimme the crowd

I bring it loud

Then I rock it fo' ya'

I'm sick of these cats on posters

I burn 'em to crisp like toasters

Rob yo' as leave you screaming

Like six flags on coasters

Verse 9

Delusions of grandeur

Is one of the symptoms

With you trynna build

Your imaginary kingdom

If you think your Aragorn

Then I must be Tolkien

This is what happens

When you messin'

Wit' the protean stylist

Let the finest

Cunning linguist recite this

Like this your so called highness

Are you indisposed?

I offered you the blue pill

But the red pill you chose

Now you'se overdosed

Verse 10

Yo, buck a pencil

I scribble stupid rhymes

With my brain

I'm mental

This songs a little toast

For my pain

I'm roastin' my brain

Crazy but I post no complaints

Buckin' paranoid when tourin'

Think of bombs in a plane

I think I'm dyin'

I'm seein' stuff

I ain't supposed to

Like Linda Blair in Exorcist

Up in my lovin' poster

Buck the mic I'm lonely

I'm one fourth of a boaster

Imaginary girlfriends

Cause reals ain't buckin' closer

Correct these lyrics

Songwriter(s): Johan Bin Ishak, Cairel Adrin Bin Ibrahim
Copyright: A Range Publishing Sdn Bhd
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