Sly Songtext
von Ugly D

Yeah
Homegrown Entertainment
Ugly D
2015
First of the last, last of the first
Roll it up, light it up
Yeah
Yeah

You know what it is
Thelonious Ugly D, the ceremonial master
Get it straight, I′m a hip-hop poet that's no kind of rapper
No type of thug, not even the man on the block
I just work my nine to five, come home and stay on the clock
I′m tryna live good so that my fam can thrive
I strive for a better tomorrow to keep hip-hop alive

I use this song to share my story but I don't expect a holler back


Even though I need dollars dollars like I was Aloe Blacc
He knows I'm the man, been ugly for a minute
Ain′t going back to being Dan
I′m going back to the Homegrown studio and being all I can
Give me a mic and a beat, a lighter and trees
If Hi-Yella provide the fire then my voice controls the heat
A freedom fighter throwing trash cans at windows like Spike Lee
Doing things right gets a little unsightly when it comes to my life, G
I be the alarm waking hip-hop up from a nightmare to a light sleep
The Sandman with the narcoleptic flow, kid, I write dreams

I stay sly while me and the family get stoned
Autograph a track with a signature sound, I pen poems
For this rap shit I got the love jones like Bob Digi

Boo doo doo doo doo, y'all ain′t fucking with me
It's that loud mouth straight out the foul mouth
Got them beats and rhymes hitting harder than a Bruce Lee roundhouse

This that old 134 Seacoast Shore basement raw
Underground sound shaking up your mama′s floor
Knock down the door, tear it off the hinges
We in the cypher spitting that old fly slick shit
Giving these wack so-called rap niggas the business
Sitting back thinking, "Shit, I should open a rap clinic"
Man, listen, it's Hi-Yella the under Diggy Dog
Putting it down with the ugliest MC of them all
Person to person, that Homegrown nasty north
If you can′t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch


The illest MC who's unheard, rolling stone unturned
Eyes low from the haze, my skin tone is sunburned
My sound stick in your head like beeswax
You don't feel it, I jam a mic down your throat
See if you can handle the feedback
I lean back when I smoke, stand tall when I flow
To lead cats who don′t know that I won′t relax for a soul
And no, I won't promote swag, kid, you know I don′t brag
You wanna go a couple of rounds? I spit box and toe tag

Wrath of a titan, I'm getting back to writing
Steady going green when all y′all been doing is recycling

80S beat, 90s hook, same flow, the clone look
You could tell by the way that I'm rapping
I didn′t know there was a rule book

While you flock to clubs, I bust rhymes and get lots of love
Hit you with so many punchlines it's like I was spitting boxing gloves

Pound for pound, you don't wanna go round for round
Your man′ll either throw in the towel or you′ll be down for the count

Apply pressure to the mic until I make it combust
Chase the money 'round the globe ′
Cause we need cash for the life we lust
If money's the root of all evil then
Why′s it printed "In God We Trust"?

If you seen the shit I seen you wouldn't just give out your trust
In a paper trail moving at a fast pace
Tryna cool it even though I′m feeling heat from my situation
What kind of bills I be facing?

Bouncing off the wall from time to time, got my mind racing
Multiple nine to fives, IRS got me taxed
So what more is left for the taking?
The system's a setup for the test of a grown man's patience
As I sit rocking back and forth thinking ′bout that guap
Got my fucking heart pacing
Bare face ′em, fuck a mask even if it was from Jason
And get more gory like you slapped five with Krueger
Don't let me get my hands on your money
Boy, I torch your racks like Lex Luger