Artist: Bronze Nazareth f/ RZA Album: School for the Blindman Song: Fresh from the Morgue Typed by: Cno Evil [Chorus 2X: Bronze Nazareth] Nigga, I'm ill, fresh from the morgue Teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor Nigga, I'm ill, fresh from the morgue Yes, I'm gone, trade my lawn for a shore [Bronze Nazareth] Nigga, I'm ill, chains still the back of a gorilla Record so sharp, DJ's slash they finger We chop trees, never yelling timber Float off of leaves, caught from weeds of Magellan drifter Off the Richter, scale, triple beam, coffee lifter Subliminal, seminal, often lifted Incredibly criminal, how they doze off on a discus Breakfast is my lunch, the feds heard my song, now they wanna search my trunk Told them got that white, and make sheets of that numb Photocopy bright, I'm the sun in your palm Turn them zombie white, like that sickness that I'm on Impregnate the song, Molotov tossed, detonating off my balls Take what I want, you niggas still begging And I don't got no jewelry to flaunt, I brought a building Sicilians and gold Brazilians, all on my lap like pavilions If anyone dare touch 'em, they might as well commit 'em [RZA] Bobby Steels and Bronze Nazareth, combinations, too hazardous The inflictions, the past descriptions, blown by known adjectives Beyond fabulous, the small star's an asterisk While I descend from the most high, create the star catalyst Crumble MC's, keep a pocket full of crumbled cheese Not a tuna fish, but I been in the can with bumble bees Rah's ill, sickness can't be cured by small pills Take large corporate checks and cash 'em to small bills Keep the gat in the shoulder strapped, quicker then a Kodak snap Twist a nigga wig back, like a fucking soda cap Nigga, ain't supposed to rap, I make movies Them boys poke they chest out, like they fake boobies Put some D's on it, put some cheese on it The blunt is split open, nigga, put some trees on it Illicit explicit, ballistic, rap mystic Got more rhymes then beats, then I can ever silicate So I give you a freebie, you better smile when you see me Popping on your silver screen, upon your TV B.O.B.B., Y? Because we like you D.I.G.I.T.A.L., still hard as hell, and rock bells Motherfucker, flip the head, I take the tails They must of missed it, son, the digit They didn't know we had jelly on the biscuit, huh Son, they foolish, why would this muthafucker risk it Just to become, another police statistics Bob is ill ill ill, Bob is ill Bronze is ill ill ill, Bronze is ill [Bronze Nazareth] I'm an insane cocaine cowboy That mean I ride the beat like a white horse, propane out poor I'm out for a bank account, fish scale drought war My trout raw, like Lust Jones, salute to the outlaw I'mma sprout raw like a tumor and branch out Devote fans bottle neck, the venue, I air it out I'm the air that ya'll niggas don't hear about They scared to say my name five times in the mirror, now Everything clearer now, I'm proactive, cuz I clear 'em out Abort mission, tear 'em out the frame, you an old picture You a field negro, you an old pitcher On the grind, past your prime, I'mma spring chicken Spring training all you lame victims My blade dripping, mary jane henchman, higher plain intention You McCane reaching, I'm so ill, bring in the nurses to see 'em My bitch purses bulimic, you reason up my per diem Seeing the beats leave stiffer then vegans dees on the victim My ninja hit me with these vintage words of wisdom You hang with four broke niggas, be the fifth one [RZA] Bob is ill ill, son, Bob is ill Bronze is ill ill ill, Bronze is ill Killa Hill, Bob is ill ill, son, Bob is ill Bronze is ill ill, dun, Bronze is ill Bronze is ill ill, son, Bronze is ill Killa Hill [Chorus 2X]