S.R.D. Songtext
von Peter Rosenberg

Yeah, I′m cool, but I'm petty as fuck
I′m the type to beat his ass when he said it's enough
Roll a J, take a puff
Underground, but I'm over the top
Enough′s enough now, fuck the pigs, over the slop
I′m like Stallone with the hat back, over the top

But I don't arm wrestle, I atom bomb wrestle
I′m a nuke when I'm in the booth, I′m a bronze vessel
Have you seen a brown mutant?
I could look in the mirror in the pitch black dark
See a verse and shine through it
I could kill a industry, I put my mind to it

I could look at the sun and say a rhyme to it
And the moon too, know why I'm aligned to it, yeah

It′s the ghost of Peter Rosenberg

You get your millimeter if you know the word

You better light a joint if you know the time
If you ever seen a Jedi, then you know the signs


Yeah, but what happens when both our souls align?
A soldier's prime is often wasted on war
Never forget it, there's no credit
For older rappers whose flows decline
Niggas walk a tightrope, but never could toe the line
I′m so refined that niggas who watch me could never know the time
So sublime, my vivid verses console the blind

Hot-headed nigga spittin′ the coldest rhymes

Drop dead and niggas figure they know the crime
Control your mind with torturous imagery, there's no synergy
I cynically destroy all lyrically without sympathy
This meant for me
I was placed here to be a messiah born in fire
Raised in hell like a note that′s raised by Mariah
My vocals came with desire
I know you feel my energy
You think you lost a friend, but in fact, you're gainin′ an enemy
Put my pain in this mentally, the only way I know to do it

You don't need to know me, my nigga, just know the music


This one thing got me trippin′, Amerie
This high level's not eye level, you can't critique
Packs and pearls, lemon cherry from Cannatique
Kicks from Joe Fresh Goods, unreleased
Let′s make this quick, I had to go bust a sale
Watch gold mines crumble, niggas fumbled and failed
Check the weight on your own time, it′s too much to scale
Appraisal for the piece worth four years in jail

Kush God, all hail the real
They talk tall tales, hope all is well, for real
The spot is hot, I had to keep off it
Switched the operation up, hit different resources
My people baggin' up, doggy said he feel nauseous
Half-ass too, Fenty got her trippin′ in the hazmat suit
Be careful with it 'cause you really have to
Or it′ll be your last move

1101-1816 Is the item number on this one
And the nice thing about these practice katanas
Oh, oh, that hurt
Oh, that hurt big time
A piece of that just, the tip just got me, Odell
Oh, that got me good
You alright?
A piece of that tip just got me
Oh, right now, we, uh, may need emergency surgery in the studio