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Blazin' From Dirty South West

from Ghettolutionary by Mark Anthony

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(1st Verse)

You know who I am, know who I rep-don't ever step to me,
I'll bury your whole set, trust me
Blazin' from Dirty South-West, the career killer.
Kill a career, lay it to rest cah,

You're too ex-up, and to avoid getting your head bus',
It takes more than a vest, blood.
Open your chest up, so, when you stuck,
Don't be a hero, struggle and get messed up.

I spit da clip and rip your string vest up,
Front page news, I move "Extra!-Extra!"
Dark when I bark a 12-Guage, protect your neck!
Hit the deck! Rudeboy, I stepped up.

Be easy, speak and get swept up.
I need monopoly money, like Alliance & Leicester.
Gyal ah request and O.G.s respect us.
I brang your career to a close when I crept up.


Blazin' from Dirty South-West,
Blazin' from Dirty South-West,
Blazin' from Dirty South-West,
L-O-N-D-O-N, The Borough of Lambeth!
Blazin' from Dirty South-West,
Blazin' from Dirty South-West,
Blazin' from Dirty South-West,
The career killer, kill a career, lay it to rest!

(2nd Verse)

Lemme tell you why I rely on I only,
At the same time i ride for homies, cah,
I might never get signed by Sony,
Whether I'm with my clique or by my lonely.

Sick wid it, so chicks wanna ride my pony,
25 with a flow that's Holy,"Hallelujah!"
South-West, for the fakes and phonies:
Step back, 'cos you do not know me. Lets go!

You're just a challenger, furthermore, your an amateur,
Plus, I know I can handle ya, so I'll probably damage ya,
Blood, I never panic, already loading a 'matic,
Like heroin to an addict, your chasing the dragon!

I bodybag-em-up, freeze, toe tag-em-up,
Any back-chat, I cock back the mag-a-num.
You "Talk the talk", but when you try "Walk the walk",
You'll find your body outlined with chalk.


(3rd Verse)

Look at the level I deliver my grammar on.
You're looking nervous, I'm watching you get your stammer on.
And I've got enough stamina for the marathon,
The ladies wanna know where the hell I get my stamina from.

But I'm letting you know, that when I get in the zone,
Blood, I ain't petting the chrome, hammer the lead in your dome,
I'll let the weapon explode and tear the flesh off your bones,
Even though I wouldn't deliberately step on your toes.

My flow's A-Class, wannabes wanna bite my style,
To sound familiar, but it ain'it Mark.
As soon as the game starts, I'll be declared the winner,
'Cos I'm iller than a military grenade blast

Bring a fake-arse artist, I ain't Nas,
But I know say Mark will done him in 8 bars,
Skate past in a face-mask, let the "Tre' 8" blast,
You're body-poppin' like Turbo in "Breakdance".




from Ghettolutionary, released October 2, 2010
produced by Green Gremz / 0584
DowntownSoul Ltd / Open Mind Entertainment / 0584


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