Unorthodox Songtext
von Tony Touch

Yo, put some more fucking bass
Turn this motherfucking sound up, man
Blast this shit, just turn the whole shit up
Fuck that, man, turn the whole motherfucker up
Niggas got big ass speakers, man
Little ass motherfucking spot
And you can′t turn that, turn that motherfucker up


Heard 'em say Cosa Nostra, Chef and Sosa
Pulled up, Green Beret on some locsta
40 Below′s my clothes, hardly get clothes
Big bread in my pocket, fuck Barnaby Jones
My ice on chunked out rugged
My belt is 60 grand, station wagon Lambo, fuck it
Guns is green, the beam is jet red
In the projects, counting match and stacks of cream
Levi's on, I ride around with Fila's on
Keep it quiet like he not saw ′em
With my studio, ′cause he pop for 'em
I′m in the Bebop for 'em
Writing graffiti, ice G-Shock on
My glove game crazy, my niggas is moist
All we know is paper, baby, make up your choice
And I′ma ride for it, let 'em buy all yours, I′ma die for it
Drop 'em out the 540, I fly shit

Came through the spot with the Chef, skip the pat-down
Fly niggas dressed like kings, word to Sac-Town
Spit it like I gotta put my city on the map now
T.O., takeover, timeout, tap out
Sat down, Tony Touch playing in the background
Every verse dope and your city is my crack town
Do you smell what we cookin'? Lay the smack down
Rappers ain′t cutting it, Toker gotta crack down
Dark Knight life, I don′t want no sleep
Niggas walking to the green, air a Lambo leap
I like Lambo seats, I don't want no Jeep
Get money and spread it out like Fronto Leaf
We the dream team, Nina the Jordan and the King
You gon′ need a few reporters, camcorder routine
Yellow tape that stretch like four or five limousines
187 The beat, I murder them for cream


I'm very cautious, we taking many offers
Raising eighty-five mill′ in nine months apportion
Chief operator followed up by the CEO
The curriculum is modified by the PLO
My infrastructure was built not to suffer
With pyramid daughters on point like the Luxor
Mount Rushmore, you can carve me in
Street sweeper under the fleece, I bust more
One shell, two shell, three shells found
Six perpetrators, but three nailed down
Screamed out, told 'em, "Yo, it′s only one crown"
Not another word was said, I let off more rounds
So if you love money, tell me right now
If the ladies want some too, you gotta bend down

I could knock or talk, one dough
Tony Jah Mortah blow like the Giant Eye Snow Blood
Fee-fi-fo-fum, hundred proof Jamaican rum
Mixed with coke, got my throat numb
You can't grab, grip, or hold a clutch
Pick up, throw, handle, grasp, class, but they still can't touch
Tony, these niggas phony, riding the white pony
Their cronies be singing at their ceremony
Where′s my homie? Nigga clowns
We don′t filter down the sound
'Less it′s a EQ sweep making the beat move around
It's round, round, round, round
Mic conqueror, rapping in my genes, the mitochondria
Mama, you got me with this hip-hop insomnia
The wicked, rugged, rhyming MC
Should be given a PhD, call me the MD
Mad Doctor Octagon, the man of my ambiance
Never could I be weak, well, no, rather unique
Ason, slur my speech, my technique tweaks
Heads in the red, watch my vocals peak
Beyond your focal point, nigga, smoke a joint
And understand me, and get the fucking point
I′m a most wildest, craziest, unorthodox rhyming MC