Artist: Juggaknots Album: Clear Blue Skies (Re:Release) Song: Trouble Man Typed by: zan2828@pacbell.net (*Begins with piano*) [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Buddy Slim] I declare war The joy becomes a rappifyin weapon If you step in When your draws get mobbed behind enemy lines You become a sittin duck but fuck I ain't givin em livin trifle The pen and pad becomes a 12 gauge rifle This is no laughing matter Step into this you step in a minefield Your body's scattered You people drop pickin up the pieces But only corny niggas The attack from a brotha like the Buddy never ceases Without a moment of silence the violence thickens So if you ain't got it together you slim pickings Shorts and prisoners are never taken If you fakin all the booty competition I'm a bag fuck a white flag Get down and dirty like a brotha in the trench Leave a nigga dead and stinkin as he wonders what his stench is I'm bustin clip after clip My artillery will funk on the punk When ya wanna test my shit [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Breezly Brewin] Tell it to hell is it I feel my brain swell like meningitis With the slightest mind motion Givin me the notion That I got it bad I think I got a brain tumor Brain rumor Such a pain to analyze the strain and then understand it The seed was planted That shit is ill but still The thought I'm lovin got the dome growin With the biscuit in the oven Shovin nothin but the nutrients My diet to support me A whiff of the spliff A guzzle of the forty to inspire fire thought To the mic there was marriage Causin competition Verbal miscarriage of the mental fetus Greet us with the rugged rhythm then I'm showin I think I feel my water breakin thus I'm flowin Timin my contractions Concentratin on my breathin Heavin curses at the father he has the funk Cuz if I flunk my shit ain't livin Pushin givin every bit of what I'm worth And as the Brewin drops the lyrical The miracle of birth [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Buddy Slim] I be the sick ass brotha, nasty ass nigga A phony motherfucker grave digga I know this sounds rough But I had enough to funk So part of me the heart of me So if you corny nigga It's like cloggin up my artery You cuttin circulation So now it's do or die While niggas always try to test my shit Only preservation of the funk is why I kick this As I give a simple diagnosis of the sickness [Breezly Brewin] Now upon the fruits of my labor Your ear feasts The beast from within It's some shit ain't it The picture painted From the use of a noun and a verb might disturb We make you say, "Damn that nigga's crazy" Well if we crazed, deranged well then we fittin If you say the world's a normal place Who the fuck you kiddin? Your mind's blind if you say you haven't seen this As I walk the fine line between insanity and genius [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] (*Fades out with piano*)