Rap Genius


January 1st, 1993

In the Blood Lyrics

Ft: Herbal T

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Cats try to pigeonhole my written flow but didn't know
My spittin' so orginal that it cannot be bitten or forgotten
Hip Hop's Johnny Rotten

Got the bed that your mommy got in
Suicidal kamikaze plotting your murder story in purgatory
The burning glory of my weeds unmatched indeed
Locked to the brain and got latched and keyed
Back from the dead with hot tracks you need
You spot Wax's steeze on the top of the trees
It's hogging up all of the shine from these other emcees
The people in my neighborhood can't get their water to freeze
Because my presence got their fridges at a hundred degrees

I be the, conductor that done fucked your, whole shit up
Like Hiroshima go get a fork, to stick in the litter box and eat shit
Dunny cause I'm sicker than chicken pox, and spittin' the shit that rocks
And sticking my dick in foxy women
They like how I fuck to the rhythm
They be like
Holy shit the flow he spit was both classic and fat like moby dick
I'm totally sick, my whole clique globally thick
Ride the microphone and we rip, any opponent we pick
They like
Jesus Christ the steeze is nice
It's both dark and powerful like Condoleeza Rice
Emcees get diced, chopped up to pieces with mics
Then I add a little spit for some season and spice
And saute it for twenty minutes then I eat it with rice
And that's Wax's forte dish, classic gourmet bitch
I'mma rock 'til the wheels fall off
Fuck that, I'mma rock 'til you ears fall off
I used to rock so easily
Back in the days of Run DMC
When they was like
Dum diddy dum diddy diddy dum dum

I said one fifty one rum in the city slum
I'm a gritty bum
Yes, a B-More all-star
Natty Boh' with the hole in the wall ball
Pass the henny and I'm so damn good
How a suburban white boy spit so damn hood
I'm just saying bruh
The flow so gutta y'all
We throw strikes while y'all throw those gutter balls
That's why the ho so butterball
Got your girl all up in the lab rocking no clothes but her bra
Yes, and the flow don't stop
You should photoshop my face on a robocop

I'm so hot robotic rhyme
I ain't gotta sign on the dotted line
To prove that your shit ain't as hot as mine

Bottom line is that we are the truth
You need proof, witness me and Herbal T in the booth
We just bouncing, and stretching
And it's oh so air and I cash in
Not to mention the fact that we never come whack
It's just a motherfucking family tradition

[Herbal T]

Yes it's true bro
Few flow, better than the veteran duo
Compare us to H2O

People saying "where did you move yo?"
From the east to the wild wild west like Kool Moe

Dee, Herbal T be breaking you down, making you bow
To the kings of this motherfucker taking the crown
Gimme a, rake and a plow and a couple of seeds
In a couple of months, we gon' roll a couple of trees
And get, high as shit the fliest clique
Is both independent and slick like a private dick
Straight pillaging your village in a pirate ship
Them guys is sick, make you catch a virus quick 'til you hu-
Lucinate them dudes is great
They both on top and legendary like Medusa's snakes
And like her, I'll turn you stone with one line
Literally make you rock to the way that I rhyme

It's like, steadily gettin' incredibly spittin'
Whenever we hittin' the studio we never be slippin'
Cleverly written material, readily sippin' Imperial
Stout, by Samuel Smith, the man the myth, the legend is me
Herbal god damn T
Shining a god damn light so everybody can see
You the phoniest punk, spittin' erroneous junk
While I create melodies like Thelonious Monk
Only a skunk could compare to the funk of the flow when I'm spittin'
Hit you quick then like I'm dunking a donut I'm dippin'
Straight flip with the manuscript
To make your whole fucking clique just abandon ship
Like Geronimo, toppling you like a domino
Treat emcees like detainees at Guantanamo
Torture 'em interrogate 'em
Force 'em in the barricade
And cover 'em in gas and then I scorch 'em when I serenade 'em
Pour a little marinade on top of the steaks
While DJ's keep my records all on top of the crates
Stopping the fakes
Girls on the dance floor say
"Yo Herbal what's the T stand for?"
The textbook talented track terrorist tomahawk
Type of technique to teach tricks to Tony Hawk
Trash talkers try to test the technology
Tempted to traverse toxic topography
I'm trouble, like treacherous trails
The torpedo taking out twinkled-toed tattle tales
Two takes max when I tape tracks
Tricks tactics is tiny like tic-tacs
Torrential like tornadoes and twisters
I transmit transcripts through my transistor
Trap tricks like toads in terrariums
The tip-top terminator totalitarian