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"Buck's Four Course Meal" lyrics by CELPH TITLED & BUCKWILD
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"Buck's Four Course Meal"


[Intro]:
[Mos Def 'Got':]
"It's nineteen ninety now and there's certain individuals
Swear they rollin' hard and get robbed on principle"

October 26

[Talking: Celph Titled]
It's nineteen ninety NOW. Now motherfuckers!

[Verse 1: over Buckwild's beat for The Artifacts 'C'mon With The Get Down (Remix) ']
So here I am (yeah)
In the spot you probably wish you was
It's a few haters, but damn if I ain't gettin' love
You see my fan base (yep)
You see them quotin' bars
You see them bringin' up my name sayin', "He goin' hard"
He took some time to make an album
Now he's back in effect and motherfuckers wanna out him
A lot of rappers got my face on they dart board
But they don't start war cause I'm the hardest of the hardcore
Tinman don't need foil (no)
Metallic, exo-skeleton when heat boils
Leave you in the sun till your meat spoils
The beat boils
Buckwild bakes the heat rocks
While you soft though, I'm pullin' back the crossbow
(And y'all know)
The game's saturated and crowded
But you don't hear us bitchin', instead we did somethin' about it
Made an album with the same ingredients as many classics known
The golden era rap fans who love echoing saxophones

[Verse 2: over Buckwild's beat for Bushwackas's 'Caught Up In The Game']
A concept first of it's kind
Imagine if we combine (humm)
Me, with the murderous rhymes and tracks from a earlier time (oh yeah)
In the climate of rap where heads are lost
But over here we stay focused and make exactly what we want (yes)
Buck ain't just Diggin' The Crates (nah)
He dug straight into the shoe boxes of floppy discs
And found some jewels so I can rock the shit
Shout out to James D.L.
For havin' a vision of a magical wizard castin' angry spells
Aimin' these shells
At the state of rap music
Tryin' to change the people and tryin' to change they view of it (true)
The faggot art nerds will say we're not progressive
But they don't realize this album is a highly focused weapon (nah)
Cause we'll get the props and my rep will grow bigger
My name everywhere will make these hoes bitter (oh)
And any and all attempts to stop my movement
I swear to God you'll have brain damage from head contusions

[Verse 3: over Buckwild's beat for Little Indian 'One Little Indian (Remix)]
So my challenge
To jealous rappers and wanna-bes
Make a record better than Ninety Now then you can talk to me
And you can talk to Buck but he ain't workin' with you
Cause he made an album with me statin' facts that mostly dissed you (oh)
When flippin' the flim flam, call yourself a big fan
But never spend a dime on the music (you'se a bitch man)
So if I gotta sell crack to get rich
Well, I'm cookin' up the fish scale and Rocket like it's Ismail (uhh)
Either that or get my stage so mad amped up
Bustin' black hammers with choreographed dancers (boaw)
I am the answer to every wack rappers demo song
Cause I am the fresh maker like the fuckin' Mentos song (ahhh)
October 26th a renaissance begins to work
Doin' shit so big I take one step and fall off of the Earth (whoa)
We on a motherfuckin' murder spree
Give me constructive criticism and I'll give you reconstructive surgery (yeah)

[Talking: Celph Titled]
Yo, Buck, we gotta give 'em one more man. Throw your L's up for this one.
Rest in peace Big L, yeah.

[Verse 4: over Buckwild's beat for Big L 'Put It On']
Yo, listen, it don't take fear to fear us
You fuckin' with an evil spirit that don't appear in mirrors
You wouldn't want to be a fly on the wall, I'm grabbin' a swatter
Swing it harder than the kick back to a Magnum Revolver
Yes I'm just awful (uhhh)
A God not a phony
Minaj with your wife and I bought your daughter a pony (ahhh)
Officers know me as, "That's that motherfuckin' guy"
Shoot a pec or a thigh, don't mean shit if you a muscle guy
My guns are more than a friend
On time at your door with a nine and a.45 at a quarter till ten
I seal Navy Seals, seen a whole army's intestines
And choked enemy soldiers till they had Barney's complexion (oh no)
One harmless suggestion;
Is get your speech right
My scrap napkin verses smoke what you took a week to write (yeah)
You like butt cheeks tight, it ain't hard to tell
You been through more manholes than Donatello and Raphael
Faggot

[Thanks to tim nelson (timm2014@hotmail.com) for these lyrics]

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