Rasco

(feat. Defari and Dilated Peoples)
Dont front
So many claim the fame, but never see the day
When lyrically they could even run, in the Triple-As
This heres the major leagues, where big hits are guaranteed
The Ken Griffey turbo 850 professional MC
One more time that cat Defari
With a sting operation so blatant we call it franchise
Man sign, independent on some enterprise
Its time to shoot straight, innovate, and make the world realize
That mics get ripped, and spots get blown
I strive to be a Golden State all-time great, like J-Ro
I gets burned when the Technics turn on mix shows and mix tapes
That you hear when a car turns left on the street
You know that shit that make you bounce
Nuf respect to Rasco and Evidence
Yo hold it down on the mound
Im not like Hideo, dont got it Nomo
Im more like Randy Johnson, guaranteed heat for sure
Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed
This aint no minor league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batters box ready for combat (what?)
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat
I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit batters with attitude
The signals in, and my catchers Fari Herut
I got to risin on the mound, talkin at pen-point
Retire the side, put on a jacket, ice my joints
And body parts, world-wide, Evidence is known
Have you fallin out the batters box when curves are thrown
Precise angles, I disect the strategy, no cost
And just cause I choose to wander dont mean Im lost
I got the button-up jersrey, Dilated written in cursive
I spill my heart to wax and put the in the open
Three men against nine players, yo, that shits unheard of
Plus my eyes are open in takin folks
One cat got on base but he didnt learn his lesson
I faked to first and picked him off at second
Patience is a virtue, yo he couldnt understand
That cats out, time waits for no man
Bust it
Dont front
This where the big hits are guaranteed
This aint no minor league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batters box ready for combat (what?)
But when you step up to the plate
It be the large caliber rhyme
Ask yourself why try
Microphone slash Rasco Defari
Evidence, rhymes that set the precedence
Straight out the box, MCs to bobby sox
Major league, set to intrigue you small fee
Nothin to the game, we doused them small flames
Take names
Head for the fence, we track prints
Track down the scent, then fold your whole tent
Stay bent
The illest on rhymes at all times
Call your bullpen, Rasco just pulled into the lot
Be strikin em out with one shot
While your pitch be hittin the plate at one spot
Down the pipe
The major lieutenant that earn stripes
Bet strap in, cadet to captain
Stand up, better yet, put them hands up
And watch the triple threat come fuck them plans up
Smack niggas, with lyrical gems that sayin hymns
Niggas still rappin bout clothes and car rims
Man debted
But dishin that corn, you get spreaded
We runnin on supreme, you runnin on unleaded
Couldnt match, you out the line-up, you been scratched
Sittin on the bench, not feelin you one pinch, in the trench
We loadin the guns to stack funds
Went from stackin ones to stackin them one-huns
Scored runs
The hotter the bat, the more fat
Its Dilated, Ras, Fari, we bust back
Like that, like that, like that, like that
Like that yall, like that, check it
Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed
This aint no minor league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batters box ready for combat (what?)
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat
Dont front
[ Major League Lyrics ]