Nineteen Ninety Now

by Celph Titled & Buckwild

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about

Nineteen Ninety Now is finally here and a hip-hop renaissance is about to begin! The art form is brought full-circle through this groundbreaking collaboration between underground giant Celph Titled and production legend Buckwild (D.I.T.C.)! Showing that the lessons from the past can be combined with the innovations of the present, these two heavyweight artists have joined forces to create a neo-classic. By having uninhibited access to Buckwild’s original mid-90’s production, Celph Titled was able to select and record to over 16 unreleased D.I.T.C. bangers; bringing his charismatic flow and lyrical prowess to each one.

Guest appearances from D.I.T.C. (A.G., O.C., Diamond D), Treach (of Naughty by Nature), Vinnie Paz (of Jedi Mind Tricks), Brand Nubian (Grand Puba, Sadat X), R.A. The Rugged Man, Chino XL, Demigodz (Apathy, Ryu, Esoteric), F.T. (of Street Smartz) and more.

Key Selling Points:

• Long awaited debut album from Celph Titled

• Multi-platinum producer Buckwild from the legendary Diggin’ In The Crates crew (D.I.T.C.) has produced countless classics over the last two decades for artists ranging from Artifacts, Organized Konfusion, and Mic Geronimo to The Notorious B.I.G., 50 Cent, and Jay-Z.

• The beats on this album were originally produced by Buckwild between 1994 and 1995, but were never recorded to. The classic hip-hop sound of the SP-1200 and Akai-S950 is revisited on this project.

• All scratches on this album are done by Mista Sinista of X-ecutioners fame.

credits

released October 26, 2010

All Songs Produced by Buckwild for Kurrup Money Entertainment
All Scratches Performed by Mista Sinista
Executive Producer: James "DL" Ellison for No Sleep Recordings

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about

Celph Titled Tampa, Florida

The over-the-top, bazooka wielding action star of hip hop, charismatic Floridian word master Celph Titled began his professional entrance into the rap game during the late 90's. Now embarking on a focused solo career with over ten years of industry know-how, respect, int'l touring & die hard loyal fans, the "Celph"-made independent pastor of punchlines sets out to solidify his stamp on the scene. ... more

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Track Name: The Deal Maker
[Talking Intro]
The Landmine Lieutenant, in the muthafuckin' house
We 'bout to do it like this...


[Verse One]
I hold the record for the most ignorant rhymes said
That'll knock that cowboy hat off of Imus' head
Catch me on the Food Network and watch me handle beef
2 letters: I'm O.T., 2 words: I'm gettin' money
2 verses: I'm gettin' twenty
And that's thousands
Hoo-ridin' through L.A. in a Bronco with Al Cowlings
The head honcho, I'm out browsin'
And I ain't lookin' for bulletproof Hummers, just for bullets that shoot Hummers
And Beamers with moonroofs for the summer
For easy access to jump out poppin' and turn ya brains to au grautin
Rotten, as a young kid I never was the dude to call
Too busy turnin' G.I. Joes into voodoo dolls
Put my cigarette out on ya nose
Get blood on my suit? I got a thousand of those
Can't come close, my discography's the one with the most
Cause I appear on more tracks than Dale Earnhardt's ghost
If you approach, I'll murder though
My gun flip more shells than the Ninja Turtle show
This is my movie in 3-D, slice ya neck with a Fugees CD
And stick Lauryn Hill with the coroner's bill


[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x4]
"Ha, ha-ha-ha, and we do like this, and we do it like this, and we do it like..."


[Verse Two]
Muthafuckin' Celph Titled is back (yeah!) you can't the diminish fact
I pull the panties off of feminine acts
And with Sinista on the scratch (maaaan)
You know I'm rippin' this wax cause Buckwild came with the pimpinest track
And with style and grace, I'll punch a guy in his face
("Wipe out, remove, erase and annihilate")
Yeah, that's how I move when I swing
And like Ben Grimm's wife, you ain't doin' a Thing
I done been ripped mics from Australia to Queens
Smacked wack labels up for bogus shit they released
And when Moses split the seas
I jumped the gap on water skis (Did you look back?) Nah, nothin' more to see
Cause on my Island, there's no sign of Def Jam
Won't sign with left hand, right hand, Aight? SCRAM!
I shine bright next to mic stands
Might just blind ya eye sight and give ya hype man a slight tan


[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x4] "Ha, ha-ha-ha, and we do like this, and we do it like this, and we do it like..."


[Verse Three]
Rough enough when I swing with a uppercut
Yellin' at rappers like a megaphone with the button stuck
Kerosene, pour quarts out, in front of the court house
Light a match and in a calm manner I walk out
In Atlanta I bring the Hawks out
These are Doberman jaws, I looked over and saw you had a small snout
Do I catch wreck? Hell yeah
I'm the Fresh Prince of Hell's Lair, y'all better get some healthcare
Fuckin' with Celph's rare, not too many wanna do it
But the ones that did got they record label ruined
Made you switch angles, somethin' ain't lookin' right
Underground rappers turned to Criss Angel lookalikes?
That's what a faggot's lookin' like, so fuck anybody that knows ya
You a coward and a poser
I'm about flows that roast ya
Your shit's dead, it's leftover french bread from Stouffers burnt in my toaster
Certainly it's over, y'all gotta start with a new scheme
Your goofball Ron Burgundy news team
Ain't bringin' the forecast
My hurricane cyclone attack leave you with your bones cracked and four casts


[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x4]
"Ha, ha-ha-ha, and we do like this, and we do it like this, and we do it like..."

[Scratch + Sample Outro]
"Like this!"
"A one-two, a checka one-two"
Track Name: Out To Lunch (feat. Treach of Naughty By Nature)
[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x2]
"Dem no like me and me no like dem
Dem a me enemy, me an dem no friend"
[Scratch Chorus] [x2]
"Ready to smack the dog shit outta them"
[Vocal Sample]
"Demolish and polish (Who?) God damn!"


[Verse One] [Celph Titled:]
(Fannn-fuckin-tastic), crashin' thru ya wall like The Kool-Aid Man
The suit cost eight grand
Murderous clans that grabbed purses and ran
Ain't shit cause with bare hands I disassemble conversion vans
My Hell's Wind Staff blows limbs back
I won't spit tracks with wick-wack cliques that come with less than ten stacks
Yeah the price went up, bakin' cupcakes
And if I told you what was in 'em you would probably throw the icing up
Hyphen-fuck-slash, you kickin' that Balderdash
This is how you 'sposed to rap, I'm where you should focus at
Chicka-chicka-check, me and Trigga Treach
Triple the torture, torch ya when you intercept a Intratec
Intercept text messages, collect "Evidence"
Like a Dilated Peoples box set, get upset, turn ya top red
I'm a hot head, swing a rock in a sock net
Cop the Swisher from Achmed, let the glock spread
Put you in a box dead, carnivore, half animal
Acupuncture treatments from the splinters in my axe handle
Blast ammmo when I mash out
Cause when I lash out, I rip eye lashes out


[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x2]
"Dem no like me and me no like dem
Dem a me enemy, me an dem no friend"
[Scratch Chorus] [x2]
"Ready to smack the dog shit outta them"
[Vocal Sample]
"God damn!"


[Verse Two] [Treach:]
Trigga Treach...
Known for rippin' the raps, grippin' the gats, nippin' ya naps
Fuck around and get kidnapped, slip and get slapped
You'll be worth a handsome ransom, tied in the camper
By some hip hop Black Panthers from Tampa
Puttin' paws to ya jaws, how ya feel now?
Plus you know we throw that steel 'round in Illtown
Pil-pow, nigga-naps, nuh-Naughty style
Watch ya turn the strippers 'round the .40 cal
Gritty pile, plenty stacks, 60 pounds
Handin' out my mini-Mac, 50 rounds
A negro without an ego, desert eagle stay low
You play bro and be spinnin' in the air like a tornado
NATO, couldn't save ya, pray a minute, pause
Ya gone now thanks to Treach and The Demigodz
These demographics are drastic, ya bastard
Mastered the ass-kiss, show ya ass and get smacked quick


[Sample-Looped Chorus] [x2]
"Dem no like me and me no like dem
Dem a me enemy, me an dem no friend"
[Scratch Chorus] [x2]
"Ready to smack the dog shit outta them"
[Vocal Sample]
"To come exact with the stupified rap"


[Verse Three] [Celph Titled:]
Sneak attack entourage, barrage of shooters on deck
That move with a set, pull a tool in a sec, imagine what we do to ya rep
(I'm sayin') dissect with a chainsaw, not a Katana blade
My problems make the common state of your heart rate complicate
The voice of god, colder than a oyster bar
The boy been hard, like Hasselhoff hoistin' Deutsche Marks
For Naughty fanatics I'm bringin' Ali Baba back
Holy magician bringin' that Dalai Lama rap
Send bengals who will mangle you
Leave you in the wild I'll serve you as bengal food
Aim and shoot, with every word that we speak
Tell 'em Treach we gon'
[Treach:]
Smack 'em, call 'em burgundy cheeks
Biatch!
Track Name: Eraserheads (feat. Vinnie Paz of Jedi Mind Tricks)
[Intro Hook - Vocal Sample] [x4]
"Stand on point, on guard, real sharp
Write rhymes that's real hard"


[Verse One]
[Celph Titled:]
The sound of my voice'll make stab wounds
Barber of the universe leavin' planets with half moons
I have assumed that those who choose to make rap music
Have no talent at music, so me and Vinnie came to grab ya head and put a gat to it
[Vinnie Paz:]
I bring the .45 glock and the .38
AR-15 send their body to the pearly gates
Me and Celph ain't makin' happy music, this is purely hate
Toby Hooper in this muthafucka cousin, saw his face
[Celph Titled:]
And when we holdin' the Tec, we'll put a hole in ya neck
Leavin' you with a permanent T-Pain vocal effect
I ain't a flossy dude, sippin' Mo'
But if I was, I'd pop the cork off in your bitch's asshole (Let 'em know)
[Vinnie Paz:]
That's how the hoe get treated, she get the smut treatment
Toss her out the whip, leave her on the rough cement
Celph and Vinnie will deliver an abrupt beatin'
And the Walther 9M will leave your guts leakin'
[Celph Titled:]
Your video had the best special effects I seen
Had you in the projects usin' computer blue screens (Nah mean?)
[Vinnie Paz:]
You phony muthafuckas never held a ratchet ever
You was in the faggot bar with Kanye strapped in leather


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"Boom-kacka-boom-boom, boom-kacka-boom-boom"
"Pow-pow, buck-buck, pow-buck"
"Bang-bang-bang just like the Ricochet Rabbit"
"For my arrival, rappers are teamin' up"
"Boom-kacka-boom-boom, boom-kacka-boom-boom"
"Pow-pow, buck-buck, pow-buck"
"Yo I'm strapped with the gat, step up, blat-blat!"
"You can suck my dick you little fuckin' bitch or blucka-blucka-blaow!"


[Verse Two]
[Celph Titled:]
I never thought I'd get a bitch pregnant ever
Until my main squeeze gave birth to a baby Beretta
(The more gravy the better), don't holla just yell
It's like the night before Christmas, I can't wait to see hell
[Vinnie Paz:]
I can't wait to see hell either
I'mma run up on the first muthafucka that I see with a rusty cleaver
I ain't a sucker neither, and no one fuck with Vinnie
Fat gut, wife-beater, pasta, I'm a fuckin' Guinea
[Celph Titled:]
I'll smash a mirror, I'll walk under a ladder
I'll let a black cat cross my path, it don't matter
Cause I ain't superstitious and I don't fear nothin'
You talkin' all that tough shit
[Vinnie Paz:]
But you's a queer frontin'
And y'all are snitch but let me tell you somethin', you ain't hear nothin'
I like to refer to my trigger as the fear button
I don't fear nothing either, I just cock the pistol
I like the way the bullet burst and what it do to tissue


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"Boom-kacka-boom-boom, boom-kacka-boom-boom"
"Pow-pow, buck-buck, pow-buck"
"Bang-bang-bang just like the Ricochet Rabbit"
"For my arrival, rappers are teamin' up"
"Boom-kacka-boom-boom, boom-kacka-boom-boom"
"Pow-pow, buck-buck, pow-buck"
"Yo I'm strapped with the gat, step up, blat-blat!"
"You can suck my dick you little fuckin' bitch or blucka-blucka-blaow!"


[Verse Three]
[Vinnie Paz:]
Ayo we blazin' son
[Celph Titled:]
Like gang bangers with laser guns
My rap verses are curses and scriptures spit with a razor tongue
Nitwit, I play ancient drums
That conjure up demon spirits that appear in smoke out of a pagan's lungs
I'm everything hardcore, complex, original
Ya no want test the disciple of death
C. Titled is fresh like salmon at Red Lobster
And C. Titled's the best at blammin' hammers at imposters
Get ya ass whooped with automatic hazard causers
You can't make tables turn, you got bad revolvers
Faulty guns that go "click!" when you pull the trigger
Mines go "brriddtk brriddtk", it's sick when I pull the trigger
[Vinnie Paz:]
It don't matter how we get down, guns or rhymes
I'm white and raw like the perico chico, tons of dimes
I got a way with wild shit cousin, tons of crimes
Tons of .45's, AK's, tons of nines


[Outro Hook - Vocal Sample] [x4]
"Stand on point, on guard, real sharp
Write rhymes that's real hard"
Track Name: Fuckmaster Sex
[Talking Intro Sample]
"Coochie....mmmm, cooch. Okay!!"

[Intro Sample Loop] [x4]
"Young ladies if ya ready say, yeahhh (yeahhh!) ya don't stop
Fly guys if ya ready say, hooooo! (hooooo!) ya don't stop"

[Talking Intro Sample]
"Ah, well let's..let's do it, let's do it.
Hit the bomb, man.
Rare form tonight...RARE FORM TONIGHT!"

[Talk Intro]
Yeeeahhh, it's goin' down y'all
Fuckmaster Sex
Hide your bitch
It's the new age Wilt Chamberlain
Ain't playin' games, my friend...


[Verse Intro Sample]
("Ayo tell 'em what your name is..")
[Verse One]
Celph Titled, also known as Fuckmaster Sex, I
Do a slut in my car seat, show her my sex drive
Didn't soak the carpet, but she had a wet rug
Pulled out on those almond-colored breasts and left a chestnut
Better believe she gave me dome
Cause if not she was gettin' (thrown) on the side of the road like a safety (cone)
No wide body Benz, I need a wide body bitch
With an ass so large it take up the space of a 3 car garage
Had a second coming when I busted a nut twice
With a Mariah Carey look-a-like but with hair like Scary Spice
She was the type that as soon as she say hi
She's takin' off her clothes and askin' ("Baby, where's the KY?")
Huh, got a marriage that she's not holy embraced in
Cause on her body there ain't a single hole that's sacred
(Oh yeah I taped it) so I can see all of it
Then it's goin' straight to DVD like a new Steven Segal flick


[Singing Chorus] [x3]
La, la-la-la, la-la, la-la
[Vocal Scratch]
"60 minutes of fuckin', call me Fuckmaster Sex, bitch"


[Verse Two]
Got a groupie on my jock and she want me to bang it raw
The tramp is a skank and whore, she'll give you a canker sore
She give up ass often
And it wasn't a MySpace timestamp, that she had the last log-in
Not an assumption and it ain't complicated man
Cause she gon' blow either way like an oscillating fan
I'm like James Bond in a tricked out Viper
And you're just Pierce Brosnan in Mrs. Doubtfire
Yeahhh, I am Fuckmaster Sex, no split personalities here
I'll go from pimpin' to being weird like Outkast's career
Bitch I stick the fork in it and won't spoon later
They will find the stains on Room Raiders
I'm in the kitchen with a Ruben Studdard ruben cutter
Abuse ya mother, won't use a rubber
The damn bitch like a sandwich, all stuffed and greasy
Bust a nut in the hoagie and create a new sub-species


[Singing Chorus] [x3]
La, la-la-la, la-la, la-la
[Vocal Scratch]
"60 minutes of fuckin', call me Fuckmaster Sex, bitch"


[Talking Outro Sample]
"I'm in the 90's strong! I'm not in the 90's on some MTV videos or some VH1 nonsense!
I did not come up here to play Hammer and Young MC!
It's not what it is... That's not what represents the 90's to me, okay?!"

"Nobody should have their daughter around you, fam.
You are ridiculous, you need help and you should seek help.
And people embracin' this dude needs to think about it and think what he's doin'...
And I blame myself and everybody else for not speakin' up and givin' their opinion on
what we think he is and what you ARE."
Track Name: Swashbuckling (feat. Apathy, Ryu & Esoteric)
[Movie Sample Intro]
"I hold onto the gun.
Why should he hold onto the gun?
Cause I already got it, muthafucka!"

[Scratched Vocal]
"Apathy attacks like asteroids and avalanches"


[Verse One] [Apathy:]
Welcome to hell, I'm Lucifer's lieutenant
In the School of Hard Knocks, I'm the superintendent
Treat a hoe like a hoe, why would you get offended?
When 90-percent of y'all are all stupid and pregnant
Buncha freaks hotter than summer heat, no wonder brothas creep
Pick up lines work when she's slower than a Southern beat
I'm livin' proof I can get in these booths
And make rappers turn pussy, I'mma give 'em a douche
My shit is the truth, Northface and Timberland boots
I'm '92 Tupac readin' scripts for 'Juice', yeeaahh
You got the cash? I'mma rob ya ass, stick you with a stockin' mask
(You out for the dough?!!) C'mon, you gotta ask?
I'm good with the guns, good with the funds, run or your shit'll get done
Riddle your body with metal, get rid of the evidence 'fore the detectives come
So clear a path for the bully in a bulldozer
Booby-trap the trunk with a pump in case I'm pulled over


[Movie Sample Transition]
"You're welcome, you're all welcome!"

[Scratch Vocal]
"The fuck you wanna do? Come and see Ryu"


[Verse Two] [Ryu:]
Lord have mercy, these dudes are dookie
I don't even wanna hear it, please somebody shoot me
Put me out of my misery quick, I am through givin' a shit
I am officially on a mission from a different planet
And solar system with some nerdy equipment
I got the Faggotron cannon pointed at your position
So quick and efficient, come have a listen for yourself
Take a peek in my kitchen, you better loosen up your belt
More flavor than a frickin' rotisserie chicken
Who left the mic on? Holy shit, jiminy crickets
I am an icon, turn the lights on when I finish
I treat beats like a pipe bomb and I just lit it
Fuck your Ipod and every trash rapper that's in it
Come snuggle with a python, it's fun for minutes
It's been a lifelong dream, now I'm seein' the fruit
The DGZ killin' machine, the R-Y-U, suck it!


[Vocal Sample Transition]
"If y'all came here to a show, we want everyboy cooperation..
In the place tonight.."

[Scratch Vocal]
"It's Esoteric...What'd you expect?"


[Verse Three] [Esoteric:]
Ayo, ready set, machete rep, fly kid that'll never jet
The coolest tattoo-less muthafucka that you ever met
You got the nerve to spit about how you murder clicks and bust guns
But those are just two other words for tits
And cock hammers, those are just two other words for dicks
And for a couple clowns like y'all it seems that's a perfect fit
It's like "Make yourself a dang ques-a-dilla"
I'm drunk off this Buckwild shit, don't let me near that case of Dilla
Shay's a chiller, lady killer, for-reala, erase your villa
I'm Freddy, Jason, Godzilla, I'm devastation Atilla
Y'all cats be outta bars like you're fresh from jail
The only karats {carrots} y'all be holding's for ya son's lunch pail
I unveil the unreal, a done deal, you punks fail
Shit, we go in on beats like y'all go in on 2-for-1 sales
And I assume you know my man Celph'll ruin ya
Peace from the Pterodactyl, y'all be Dinosaur Jr's and I'm out


[Movie Sample Transition]
"Believe me sir, he's not human!
And are you aware the he tortured them with a refinement of cruelty"

[Scratch Vocal]
"Celph Titled's known as a gangsta to some"


[Verse Four] [Celph Titled:]
Fuck a bitch, I'm on some borderline rape shit
I'm puttin' one in the oven and it ain't a fuckin' Duncan Hines cake mix
I will put a few stacks on ya spine
You are a money back guarantee, plus I'm out my mind
Where's the catering service? I need to feed to my ego
Sit at home, smoke, collect checks and eat Doritos
Drive around in a 60-thousand dollar car
Douse ya maw & paw, got at least 60 gallons more
Manipulate metaphors, I am rhymin' raw
I am the Human Torch, of course I got firearms
So henceforth, what you say is irrelevant
I'll put the metal in your chin like Kanye's skeleton
Dissengrate flesh when lead enzymes chew
(Even ya windpipe too?) Them hollows went right thru
My marksman training is ill when I clap and spark it
Use ya kid's training wheels as a practice target
Track Name: I Could Write A Rhyme
[Intro Hook - Vocal Sample] [x4]
"Yes yes y'all, as I proceed"


[Verse One]
(Y'all got Celph Titled questions?) I got Celph Titled answers
On how I started, how I represent Tampa
I know you're used to hearin' me on some wild out shit
Yellin' at the top of my lungs how my nine gon' spit
But I got more styles that's sick
And I been doin this from Fahrenheit 813, since '93
I've been makin beats and writin rap sheets
Mischievous teenager with a creative outlet to release anger
Booty shake bass music, I was into that
Poison Clan, 2 Live Crew, that's what got me into rap
Loopin' tracks with fast hi-hats and 808's
4-track machine with the high speed cassette tape
Now keep in mind I was a fan, but as MC's we all are
And very few of us become stars
Went from blastin' Magic Mike to grabbin' a mic
Tried to sound like Spice 1 and not "Rapper's Delight"
From E-40 to Ice Cube
The west coast had a lot to do with the type of beats I'd write to
But still the Juice Crew was one of my faves
Never discriminated whether New York or L.A.
And around the mid 90's
I became fascinated with the Lord Finesse style of slick rhyming
The Redman's, the Big L's, the Das EFX's
Ras Kass and Chino XL type of records
So guess what? Celph Titled emerged
Bowling ball style runnin' thru pins {pens}, author of murderous words
And I was set to rip every verse I put down
17 years old and at rappin' I'm pretty good now


[Sample-Trigged Chorus] [x2]
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"Right on the spot, right on the spot"


[Verse Two]
I'm from a city that don't have much hip hop roots
So I felt compelled to form a hip hop group
See I was once on some go against the norm
Flow fast and write rhymes in complex forms
It was kinda ill at the time, cause really the only other choice
Was Puffy and Mase and them big willie club joints
So I got my act together
And eventually met 2 other MC's that rapped together
We was all on that underground vibe
Cella Dwellas, Kool Keith, Tribe and Organized
I was kinda outta my mind, a weird guy
Cut designs in my facial hair and fucked around with beard dye
It was me, Majik, and Dutch and we had a lot of fun
Thought we was smart, named ourselves Equilibrium
And had a label called Atomik
With Walkmen and Kramtronix layin' down cuts on it
I stayed poly'n 24/7
And in 1997 started recordin' our first record
Then my phone rang, didn't know who it was from
Some guy that called himself Apathy the Alien Tongue
Heard I had production, and I could rhyme too
He was from up north and knew some Jedi Mind dudes
Plus he had a crew better than any squad
Couple months later they was callin' me a Demigod
I started shoppin my demo aggressively
Landed on the desk of BUDS Distribution NYC
Next thing you know, I got a single on wax
And a offer for a job in New York, so my bags was packed


[Sample-Trigged Chorus] [x2]
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"Right on the spot, right on the spot"


[Verse Three]
Now I'm 19 and a Floridian in New York
White Cuban boy that says nigga and eats pork
So you could call me foul, but back then I didn't care
I would do whatever to catch a listener's ear
So I submerged myself in the local scene
Nuyorican, Wetlands, Tramps, Speed, SOB's
That guy Apathy, he's from Connecticut
So we would link up, write songs to make records with
The label I was fuckin' with, they was feelin' it
So then we had vinyl distribution at our fingertips
The Demigodz onslaught was in full motion
20 singles in 2000 with no promotion
My name was everywhere for beats or for features
But best believe I had a fuckload of non-believers
Masterminded an underground persona
Dirty mouth punchline wild animal down to bring the drama
I made a lotta, friends from Boston to Philly
Never thought this many heads would say they really feelin' me
So you gotta respect that, and when Vinnie Paz ask me to join the Army
I was like "Bet that!"
Then Jimmy Iovine's assistant
Insisted that me and Apathy make a little visit for business
The deal fell thru, but Atlantic picked Ap up
We expanded the Godz in L.A. with more rappers
Then Cage got smacked up, I remember punchin' him
I remember pressin' up his diss songs and chumpin' him
I remember havin' him so scared
Chain-smoking in the back room at his show just cause I was there
He was drugged up and paniced, couldn't face me he was frantic
Snuck behind with a bottle and then he ran quick
That's how a little man fights a giant
Cowardly lion and God strike me down if I'm lyin'
But I've moved past that, it's all gravy
I was on an album executively produced by Jay-Z
Tours with Mike Shinoda, gettin' paper with Fort Minor
My worldwide exposure is a sore reminder
To those who think I'm gonna disappear
But it's pretty obvious that I ain't goin' nowhere
I am a hater's worst nightmare, that got fans
And I gain more and more everytime I drop jams


[Sample-Trigged Chorus] [x2]
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"I could write a rhyme, rip it up and write a next one"
"Right on the spot, right on the spot"
Track Name: Hardcore Data
[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"To mash muthafuckas like potatoes"

[Talking Chorus Adlibs]
Yeah, Celph muthafuckin' Titled
The God damn 'Hardcore Data'
Muthafucka...


[Verse One]
The microphone mutilator, I'll bruise ya crews and neighbors
Do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor
(Are you a buddha blazer?) Yes I get zooted major
And all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers
I got the smoothest flava, makin' moves, movin' makers
Off the roof, who's to save ya? (Who's the savior?)
Celph Titled the Rubix Ranger (playa), scoopin' paper, when I'm doin' capers
And what's inside this bazooka case'll shoot a crater
In ya screwface and dufus gayfers
My ruthless anger got animal in the zoo behavior
The Uz'll spray ya, lose ya body in a lake or
Tombs and chambers where you'll consume fumes and vapors
(Huh-Hah) we mash fucks like soup 'n potatoes
It's true we'll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas
Sooner or later, fine-tuned parachutin' invaders'll
Tear thru ya Winnebaga, wearin' suits and aimin' aero-fusion phasers
Ain't talkin' mules and acres
I'm filmin' movies in Bermuda on a cruise to Jamaica
I'm a front tooth eraser, you's a booty shaker
And you'll be found in a pool with baracudas and gators


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"To mash muthafuckas like potatoes"

[Talking Chorus Adlibs]
Yeah, you know what the fuck it is
Still on top, man
It's the muthafuckin' Grand Daddy Grenade Man
Y'all know me, man
Fuck y'all!
Check it, yeah


[Verse Two]
I'm too real, ill, still will kill
No frills, no gold grills, hold still, hooker-hoe, chill
I know you smoke crills, you shouldn't go 'til
I throw you out the mobile (in Mobile)
Alabama in a pile of ants in pajamas
Surrounded by a thousand salamanders
I'mma bust a round of cannons off, camoflauged as a Satanic Santa Claus
Ain't another man that's raw, you should turn your cameras on
Cause I'm bringin' the blammmer sauce, the blicker oil
The trigger boilin' hot from firin' shots, I'll spit it for you
I promise you that, ask momma who's back
The muthafuckin' Montezuma of rap hollerin' BRRAATT!
And that's the way it goes down, you fraudulent foe clown
I'mma put ya skull in the dryer and watch it go 'round
("Oh my God!") I'm salutin' one for y'all
No more shootin' guns at all, I'm boostin' the sun from God


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"To mash muthafuckas like potatoes"

[Talking Chorus Adlibs]
Bitch ass muthafuckas
You thought I was gonna stop doin' this or fall off?
Yo, y'all get back, man
Everybody get back, man
Hold up man, this is Celph muthafuckin'...


[Verse Three]
So when I walk in the club with black jeans and a white tee
You're on a walky-talky callin' security: "Hurry please!"
It's Celph and he came strapped, bringin' so much pain that
You can't get enough (Novacaine packs)
So insane in fact, I was held captive
By unattractive cave women overdosed on Proactiv
("Yo this that shit!") from the dynamite stick expert
With bottle rockets, I flirt with hotter objects of sex
And they flex in my bedroom
Legs spread thick, redhead bitch, BOOM, with no freckles
She was actually half black / Icelandic
I might land in Spanish, Italian, French
Or whatever the fuck airport they got
At my mansion the size of a Marriot, yes my rhymes are very hot
Wear a vest cause when my CDs are pressed
They fly like Japanese ninja stars and they'll injure y'all


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data"
"The microphone mutilator, with the hardcore data"
"To mash muthafuckas like potatoes"

[Scratch Outro]
"I dare the little punk to try to diss me"

[Talking Outro] [Lord Digga:]
I told y'all muthafuckas
That's hardcore, bitch niggas
Y'all not hardcore, muthafuckas
We Buckwildin', yo Buck
You know you hardcore, nigga
Hardcore tracks
Bringin' shit back, fuck that, yo
Track Name: Mad Ammo (feat. F.T. & R.A. The Rugged Man)
[Intro Hook - Vocal Sample] [x4]
"You know I love the way it's goin' down (goin' down)"

[Talking Intro]
Uhhhh
(Yeah, Stand Out.. Celph Titled.. FT!)
Rugged Man, Buckwild... Let's do it!

[Chorus] [Celph Titled:]
("Uh-uh-oh") These rappers better watch out
Cause we the livest in the house, boy without a doubt
("Uh-uh-oh") And y'ain't know what this about
We got a hundred rounds, bitch we ain't come to talk it out
("Uh-uh-oh") Yeah we party hard like Mardi Gras
And body y'all without a muthafuckin' bodyguard
("Uh-uh-oh") Everybody face gettin' scarred
Play with God and you gon' come face to face with a shark


[Verse One] [FT:]
Haters be tryin' to keep F a secret
Eat dick, I'm not the one to beef with
Peep this, dog, you gon' rest in pieces
For actin' like Sylvester, Garfield, Heathcliff
Pussy MC's I run thru yo' shit
Like a untrained blue-nosed pit who won't quit
Foamin' at the mouth cause the bitch is sick
I'm screamin' six words: Fuck you and suck my dick!
You will get served steppin' to me
I guarantee you gon' see somethin' you probably'd never would see
On top is where I'm destined to be
Stop yappin', I make you quit rappin' indefinitely
And I make hits effortlessly, Mr. F-to-the-T
Is gettin' money, smokin' medicine leaves
To be honest it's a deadly disease
I'm way ahead of my league, layin' verses for incredible fees
I got a incredible flow, competitors know
Not to ask for a chance, I'm not lettin' it go
Give me money, cash and ass instead of the blow
You gon' make me spaz and smash yo' head in the do', fool


[Chorus] [Celph Titled:]
("Uh-uh-oh") These rappers better watch out
Cause we the livest in the house, boy without a doubt
("Uh-uh-oh") And y'ain't know what this about
We got a hundred rounds, bitch we ain't come to talk it out
("Uh-uh-oh") Yeah we party hard like Mardi Gras
And body y'all without a muthafuckin' bodyguard
("Uh-uh-oh") Everybody face gettin' scarred
Play with God and you gon' come face to face with a shark


[Verse Two] [Celph Titled:]
Double barrel from my vocal booth, I shoot with both lungs
Find me in Beirut with blow guns, I'm Babe Ruth with home runs
You're a crackhead with base hits
Preachin' to the choir like Mase did
They put a price on my head, I asked 'em how much it was
Told 'em find the guy who put the hit, and I'll double it up
No you can't run circles around us, triangular force
BUCK, one round each
Bring war like a rudeboy shotta, steel alloy binoculars
Peepin' ya movements, (Why's he abusive?)
Cause it's easy to do it
Have ya jaw wired, now a straw's required to eat some soup shit
Bitches get souped quick, wanna know how the meat taste
On a man focused on his briefcase
Haagen-Das cheesecake at fancy restaurants
Even my chicken breast got a bulletproof vest on


[Chorus] [Celph Titled:]
("Uh-uh-oh") These rappers better watch out
Cause we the livest in the house, boy without a doubt
("Uh-uh-oh") And y'ain't know what this about
We got a hundred rounds, bitch we ain't come to talk it out
("Uh-uh-oh") Yeah we party hard like Mardi Gras
And body y'all without a muthafuckin' bodyguard
("Uh-uh-oh") Everybody face gettin' scarred
Play with God and you gon' come face to face with a shark


[Verse Three] [RA The Rugged Man:]
Mic check one to the two-a, baby I'mma do ya
And act like I never knew ya, I'm a dirtbag loser, use ya, abuse ya
You better pray I don't choose ya, I'll bloody you and bruise ya
Take you off the streets and recruit ya, you money makin', it's ya money I'm takin'
Takin' ya cake and cookin' ya crack and get it shakin' and bakin'
You basically basin' since 80's and Ronald Reagan
Wigga-wack, jaw crack, sugar pop, dig 'em smack
See me rip a track, young hoes sippin' similak
Bring it back, I'm shovin' pipes up the asses of dykes
Fuck women's rights, I got more pussy on me than hermaphrodites
You hear what I'm doin'? Then say no more
I can smash you with punchlines from '94
Swing, chop, bloody axe, I'm sendin' bodies to their graves
I'm the proof to the theory that white men come from caves
Opposite of pacifist, if you Catholic I'm like a nun with a ruler
Slappin' ya wrist, I'm hazardous when I'm packin' the cannon
I'm back in this bitch, Rugged Man, is he man or a myth?
Is he baggin' ya chick, is he punchin' or is his stamina sick?
Buck he always stayed street, I was down with Buck in the early 90's
When he was puttin' sleigh bells in every beat
I'm like do that, ya hookers for cover cause I'm like more than High Strung
I get slightly dumb, how many styles have I begun, come on!

[Outro Sample]
"You know I love the way it's goin' down"
Track Name: Tingin'
[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"There's no way you can win, I'm wipin' off silly grins
"When I come to kick yo' face in"


[Verse One]
This ain't Rock of Love, but I'll rock a thug
Make you wear a rag and a wig like Brett Michaels does
The Tec rifle is bugged
Sometimes it jams but most of the time it spits projectiles at ya mug
I'm from a city known for rolling cigars
Hoppin' fences in historic districts, evadin' patrol cars
And so far, I go hard, I could spit 4 bars
That'll whip you cross the face like chrome reinforced crowbars
In nine six I rocked with nine sixes
That's triple six three times so imagine the evil in that
Dressed like Count Dracula beatin' you feeble people with bats
I like Britney Spears fat, I'm puttin poisonous gas
In your muthafuckin' beer can hat
Ya body found live on National Geographic where the meerkats at
The white Latin with them weird ass raps
You better pay me right now cause ("I'm tryin to make cream and that's that")


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"There's no way you can win, I'm wipin' off silly grins
"When I come to kick yo' face in"


[Verse Two]
Elvis position in ya bathroom, found ya dead
(How'd ya die?) I put cyanide in ya bathroom shower head
Critics who get the nerve, they better hide they bitch and hoe
Cause I'll put a bullet in ya bird if you pigeon-hole
In case you didn't know, I got the illest flow
My style double-D all natural, yours is silicon
The punchline master, never get lazy with my writing
Cause I'm gettin' paid when I'm rhyming
You get slayed when you're rhyming, at a battle for free
If I'm movin' my adam's apple it costs a fee
So pull your cannons and try these boys
And I'm sendin' lead back like it's some Chinese toys
Business mogul on my mobile (phone)
With an overgown vocal tone prone to leave you blown outta ya mobile home
And on ya left jaw I'm tingin', drama that I'm bringin'
Don't work for the church but I be bell ringin'


[Sample-Triggered Chorus]
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"Swingin', swingin'...Drama that I'm bringin'"
"On ya left jaw I'll be tingin'"
"There's no way you can win, I'm wipin' off silly grins
"When I come to kick yo' face in"


[Verse Three]
(You can call me Steven Tyler) I'm one of the best arrow-smiths {Aerosmiths}
Expert with archery, and all types of weapon shit
In my rap category, I stand alone
You stand alone without a date watchin' Home Alone
I'll put the Macauley Culkin, facial expression
On the face of a bitch testin', bitch you see this Smith & Wesson?
Remember Smif-N-Wessun? Now they the Cocoa Brovaz
Remember Celph Titled? Now he's a loco fucker
I'm dope cause I chose a rubber, when I fucked hip hop
And now the bitch can't burn me so I rip shop
Better adapt to my philosophy soon
Or you gon' be that skeleton in the biology room
I dare a beatmaker to take it war (with me)
Turn you to a ghost producer like a Dr. Dre (employee)
For sure you get fucked and felt
If you went gay bashin', you'd have to punch yourself
Track Name: There Will Be Blood (feat. Sadat X, Grand Puba, AG, OC & Diamond D)
[Scratch Intro]
"Oooh ya love it"

[Verse One] [Celph Titled:]
If me and some rap faggot have static
We can go to war, at your show you'll need flak jackets
Strapped with automatics? No, we use bats and hatchets
Give the microphone a drug test, I spit crack at it (for crack addicts)
Approach your A&R with an A-R
Based on a true story, I spit H-bombs in every 8 bars
When Tony put his face in that snow, I was writin' them flava flows
And yeah even my worst haters know, that I'm a playa fa sho
They be like: Yeah I'm wit ya, Titled
Bring bitches back to the pad like a menstrual cycle
You walk around like you some kind of thuggy guy
I know you ain't Diddy, but I can make you see thru Puffy eyes


[Verse Two] [Sadat X:]
You know my stats, boy you know what I'm workin' with
Firearms of various calibers, penetrate
I'm the hate that breeds hate, nahhh let me illustrate
Time stands still on a day that's slow
With me it ain't about the show, it's about the proof
I hear the amp from the roof and anything movin' this is a stick-up
You sneeze or even hiccup, you layin' flat, you wanna face this rage?
Somebody threw some meat in the cage
Wear armor, you can call Obama, call your momma
I breed armies, make men out of boys
I'm the tactical General Patton, from BK to Manhattan
You frontin', you lame, treat ya whole squad the same


[Verse Three] [Grand Puba:]
I don't play when it come to this, I rule the mic with iron fist
Compile data, then I make the list
Grab the wack, move they ass to trash
Then empty trash so they don't exist
Since vinyl, words flow like herds of rhinos
Leave ya ass trampled when I'm runnin' on a sample
A showdown at sundown, these verbals I run down
Will leave your ass dumbfound, you thought you was gunned down
Rhyme style mean like a dope fiend lean
Cut against the green and you face the guillotine
Grand Puba, there's no way you can dodge
Better off tryin' your luck in Las Vegas at Mirage


[Verse Four] [A.G.:]
Been thru ups and downs, never touched the ground
Like girls with the big butts never fuck with clowns
I let the music take over me, words flow thru me
Truly the best, that's why niggas keep quotin' me
I'm the baddest nigga livin', average niggas don't stand a chance
I danced in France, put hands and feets on beats
Put fans in trances, Amsterdam is a place where I sin
Get that Yen in Japan, kid
The Swiss Mountains, got a Swiss accountant
Chick with a fountain pen keep my chips amountin'
To somethin', my grind is unparalleled
While y'all niggas keep on horsin' around like carousels


[Verse Five] [O.C.:]
Mind over, as a matter of fact there's no practice needed
See, I'm matched bar none
When it's all said and done up, the last man standin' is proof
Who has the biggest brass in battles I'm crafty
MacGuyver, everyday things 'round me work to my advantage
Pre-empt the plan at random
For every living soul on the planet understand this
As some often say, an heir is apparent
I'm that Maltese priceless art
It's no biddin' on an auction block, fortune or Fort Knox
Off top or written, each vowel takes precision
Knockout solidifies, win a fight over decision


[Verse Six] [Diamond D:]
I got the flow so cold, niggas call me chilly
Don't ever press up, fam, I'll smack you silly
If I'm all out of Dutches, I pack the Phillie
On my J-O-B, I mack the millies
And I'm all about stackin' my chips
Gettin' dome in the back of the whips, start smackin' them hips
All that slick talk'll just get you smacked in the lips
Game time, 4th quarter, back to the blitz
You can't move me, shake me, break me
Make me be something I'm not, niggas wanna snake me
I'm right by Skate Key, right in the X
Big Dime still writin' the checks, holla at me
Track Name: Miss Those Days
[Talking Intro]
Uhhhh
This is goin' out
To everybody from the 90's
And even if you not from the 90's
Anybody that appreciates the mark that the 90's left
In my opinion, the greatest era for hip hop
It's like bein' a teenager during the great jazz era
So you can imagine what it means to me
Let's go...

[R&B Chorus]
It's like those days are still so fresh on my mind
Seems like yesterday when I started writin' my rhymes
And I miss those days when I look back over my life
Though things done changed, I miss those good times


[Verse One]
Shit'll never be the same, I can picture it but never explain
Memories stain every inch of my brain and pump through my veins
Grand Puba had the Tommy Hill locked down
And how that Cool Water smelled, back then not now
Backpacks and Starter caps, outfits didn't match
Which reminds me that the 90's was the aftermath of crack
Girls had their name on their necklace or gold cross
Overalls folded at the ankles with stonewash
RZA rockin' all them beats, Sega with the Altered Beast
Wasn't safe to walk the streets with Jordan sneakers on your feet
Rappers had you thinkin' white girls had no butt
And whiteboys either rocked a mullet or bowl cut
I'd give a muthafuckin' million dollars to go back
To Show with the "Soul Clap", K-Solo "Can't Hold Back"
Magic admitted he had it, but he ain't a addict or faggot
If you need 'em I got crazy prophylactics


[R&B Chorus]
It's like those days are still so fresh on my mind
Seems like yesterday when I started writin' my rhymes
And I miss those days when I look back over my life
Though things done changed, I miss those good times


[Verse Two]
Al Roker was fat, Ben Franklin's face was small
Too many Florida felons, then came that 3 strikes law
The Benz had the round lights, Lexus was the new whip
Crews were rollin' deep in Jeeps, smokin' on that Thai stick
Chocolate, Lambspread, before they perfected Hydro
5 dollar bag get you that Skunk or that Cambo
Kids bought CD's from Biohazard and Anthrax
Supersized fast food, what the fuck was a trans-fat?
Pam Anderson, Anna Nicole, Carmen Electra
I miss my beeper goin' off, I miss the G-Funk Era
Early to mid 90's was the greatest of all times
Pac, Biggie, Big L, Eazy-E & Pun were all alive
It was either flava or P-H-A-T
Arsenio, The Wayans and Martin Lawrence was on TV
These are oldies but goodies, difference of OG's and rookies
Shit was good when Billy Clinton was gettin' Lewinsky pussy


[R&B Chorus]
It's like those days are still so fresh on my mind
Seems like yesterday when I started writin' my rhymes
And I miss those days when I look back over my life
Though things done changed, I miss those good times


[Talking Outro]
Yeah, uhhh
Sinista, take us outta here


[Scratch Outro]
"I miss the days of way back then"
"I remember way back in the days on my block"
"Thinkin' way back about the good old days"
"Way back in the days, back in the days"

"Felt like yesterday, I was a shorty B-boy around the way"
Track Name: Step Correctly
[Verse One]
I'm from the Gunshine State, so my gun must shine
I'm tryin' to impregnate Beyonce's sister just one mo' time
So, take a toke of this, you won't be breathin' well
I'm all about biscuits and trees like a Keebler elf
I snuff bikers, give a fuck, ride a
Unicycle with plush tires right thru the offices of Ruff Ryders
Here's a thug reminder, a goon quick tip
You belong in the ladies room cause you be on some bitch shit
I'll never stop writin' rhymes like this (cuz)
Show you what a point blank shot to ya ribs (does)
You seen the holes those shells made? You a hotel maid
Cause all you do is fold and that's so gay
I tried to kick a field goal
I missed the ball, my show flew off and hit you in the fuckin' head with a steel toe
For real though I got this underground bullshit
Wrapped around my finger, not a rapper or a singer
That's quite as ill as I am, pop out your eyes and
Scramble them bitches next to the bacon in my fryin' pan
I was a stick up kid, it was fucked up but fun
(Why?) cause I used a Nintendo Duck Hunt gun


[Scratch Chorus] [x4]
"Ya step to me, better step correctly
Cause I'mma break ya jaw if you disrespect me"

[Bridge Vocal Loop] [x4]
"Get on the mic, get on the mic, god damnit!"


[Verse Two]
Pull up right next to you at the drive-thru
I ain't here to buy food, stupid, no tellin' what I might do
Lick a shot, speed off with the perfect timin'
Yeah the tires Screech, no it ain't Dustin Diamond
You fuckin' suck at rhymin', weak imposters
I been iller, you're Ben Stiller, it's time to meet the Fockers
If you don't greet me proper
I'mma slam your head muthafuckin' face down flat into a greasy saucer
Pass the cheese and salsa, I'm makin' nachos
I told you we gon' make it rain, so bitch bring a poncho (bring a poncho)
I'm the best at war, that's what the Heckler for
Play me like it's chess and I'll smack you with a checkerboad
You should check my repoire (it's quite impressive, baby)
This year I'm eatin' real meals (like veal with extra gravy)
You was an extra for a lady in a cheap film
In a nasty scene that left the camera lens with skeet film
Without a doubt, yeah we know what you're about
You love sausage so much, when you talk you spit sauerkraut
Yeah.. Haha..
When you talk, you spit sauerkraut out ya mouth (beeotch!)


[Scratch Chorus] [x4]
"Ya step to me, better step correctly
Cause I'mma break ya jaw if you disrespect me"


[Outro Bridge]
If you're gonna step, step correctly
I got the microphone skills God's blessed me
So if you're gonna step, step correctly
Mista Sinista, tell 'em who I'm gon' get to have the best beats


[Scratch Outro]
"Then I get Buckwild wit ya!"
Track Name: Wack Juice
[Talking Intro] [Ant "Flave" Black:]
Ayo Celph, it's a lot of wack shit goin' on, man
Lot of muthafuckas drippin' with wack juice and all that
Bitch ass muthafuckin' garbage music on the internet
Niggas wearin' tight jeans and mohawks?
Like my boy Hov said
I don't wear skinny jeans cause my knots don't fit!
Yo Celph, let these niggas know


[Verse One]
Muthafucka I came to set it off (What you mad for?)
These amateurs destroyed the whole rap platform (Word?)
Think I'm wrong? Check the facts
You'd be hard pressed to find a fan that's just a fan that don't rap
Everybody got a song, everybody got a mixtape
Braggin' bout the verses that they purchased off of MySpace
They ain't buyin' records, they workin' on their records
And postin' bulletins to make sure you heard their records
I get fan mail, you write spam mail
All about your CD that for some reason just can't sell
I wonder why is that? Is your flow not hard?
Lyrics ain't on point? Production not up to par?
Or, uhhh, you don't spit hot enough bars
Or cause you're little Timmy and you're just fuckin' soft
Your voice sound lame as hell (true)
You can't command the track plus you use the mic that came with your Dell (dude)
Made a internet music page, posted some songs up
Begged people to check 'em, but then they say they all suck!
It ain't my fault that you're wack
It's my fault for not makin' this track sooner, I'm the Demigodz gat shooter
The AOTP crack mover, with impactful maneuvers
Send jabs at losers like I'm Zab Judah
(He ain't talkin' bout me at all!)
Bitch, ya drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off (yup)

[Shouting Chorus] [x3]
Ya drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off!

[Chorus Scratch]
"You drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off"


[Verse Two]
I bring it straight to ya, I won't kick no weirdo literature
Over trash beats, with a stupid-ass time signature
Think you so fresh, movin' rap forward
But that's when I'm pressin' fast forward
If the future of hip hop is some faggots with mohawks
Tight clothes and women's scarfs, then I'm gone
Back to that gutter, back to that basement
Back to real live microphone skills and not gay shit
I really didn't understand it when I heard these joints
It's like on purpose they try to rap with a nerdy voice
(Is you serious?)
My mindstate's like a bitch on the rag, I just don't like you, period
I'll be a rock star and aim a Fender where ya heart at
Ya better guard that, I'm Rick Rubin, here's guitar stabs
I'm the missile and the satellite
I'm the assassin type goin' out blastin like
The end of Scarface, remember that gun Al Pacino had?
Picture that except it's aimin' dead at a emo fag
Me and Buckwild, will shut y'all down
With a box of S-950 disks and my style
So when I see some hipsters in Williamsburg
I'mma ignite their hair gel and dance while them bitches burn
You little fairy fucks get the dick sauce
Cause ya drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off (uhhhh)


[Shouting Chorus] [x3]
Ya drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off!

[Chorus Scratch]
"You drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off"

[Bridge Scratch]
"Celph Titled The Rubix Cuban"

[Bridge Vocals] [x2]
I go on... I go on, I go on


[Verse Three]
If you're drippin' with wack juice, I can't help y'all
You can't get it off, can't get a dog to lick it off
Matter fact can't get a dog to lift a paw
I love vicious assaults and that's why I did this song
Oh you're a hater on the sideline? Sayin' Celph is corny
Celph is wack, Celph is this, Celph is that
You know what's funny 'bout that?
It's ya very own mouth the name Celph is comin' out at
(So what about them clowns that say you're weak?)
Is they buggin' cocksucka? They wish they could spit my speech
And be the Grand Daddy Grenade Man
Runnin' the muthafuckin' show like Ferris Bueller at parade jams
Rollin' with Diggin' In The Crates fam
The Landmine Lieutenant, underground hip hop's new name brand
(Recognize) Pay homage or you pay the cost...
("You're drippin' with wack juice and you can't get it off")
Track Name: Styles Ain't Raw (feat. Apathy & Chino XL)
[Talking Intro] [Apathy:]
Yeah.. you know, we came up on an era where everybody was original
Had to have their own style and shit
Now everybody wanna sound like everybody else

[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x2]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"


[Verse One] [Apathy:]
It's like I conjure demons, got bitches at my concert screamin'
Like a Naval recruiter, they truly want the semen {sea men}
Rip MC's at the seams, leave 'em stomped in cement
I bring these muthafuckas hell if they don't repent
Give 'em aneurisms when I start using big words
So I speak to 'em real simple like Big Bird
This has been brought to you by the letter A
Better pray you get away when I let Berettas spray
Get erased, get replaced real quick in this rap biz
Like the wrong answers on a 2nd grade math quiz
Sick of simplifyin' for you simple minded simple simons
This is simple science, what I spit is signifyin'
That my spit is fryin', I could spit-shine the sun's surface
With verses hot as fire-breathing dragon's burbs is
Hate to burst your bubble but you faggots been bottle fed
Noddin' your noggin to what I'm sayin' like Bobbleheads
I'll boggle your mind and crack a bottle of wine
Over your dome 'til your skull's at the bottom of your spine
So dope, you gotta rewind, alot of the rhymes
If Jesus Christ read my notebook then God'll go blind


[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x4]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"


[Verse Two] [Celph Titled:]
When I speak it's a problem, I'm a beast and a goblin
Fuckin' a MILF that closely resembles Marie Osmond
And I been, layin' in the cut
Mind control an elephant, stab your face with a tusk
Orchestrator of death, I am a black reverend
Monitored your stats and saw you needed Monistat 7
Singin' "Eye of the Tiger" but you wear eye liner
Mile High Club flight attendant goin' down on a guy sky diver
ED-209 malfunction, 500 rounds I'm dumpin'
The gatling gun to ya dome react like dynamite inside a pumpkin
(Sadistic appendages?) My whole body's evil
Havin' fun with two guns hittin' ("like some double desert eagles")
We cop cars that look like cop cars
And got helicopters that zero in on hella cop cars
And send a missile at your official tissue
Cuz ya tracks sound gayer than the "Mr. Wendal" instrumental
Detrimental to your squad, I'll diss its members
And dismember body parts, and giftwrap 'em for this December
Death is the plan, you will meet Ed McMahon when I clear you out
Cuz bombs that I publish be Clearing House


[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x4]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"


[Verse Three] [Chino XL:]
("Look! Up in the sky. It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...")
(The Puerto Rican super heeerrrooo!)
I'm angry like my momma just beat me with a switch
Madder than Nick Cannon when Eminem be dissin' his bitch
Big Chino is known to be a wild kid
Y'all refuse to get tested, you know, that Pacquiao shit
Wherever there's drama I'mma fly and find the fucker
Beat him in his face 'til he ugly like Usher's baby momma
I pray for your death and I pray that I'm the cause of it
Idiot killin' a blind man with his own walking stick
My quickest simplest rhythms, I riddle all arithmetics
I memorize ridiculous, I could hypnotize a hypnotist
Spittin' less than 33-ounces, still considered a liter {leader}
My skills are far fetched like a Labrador Retriever
Mira, keep a lot of bars only rivaled by the God of Mars
Watchin' Mya's ass shake on Dancing With The Stars
My foes plot against me, my verbal molestin'
Deserve to be put in chairs of electric like Roman Polanski
I'll put that I target artists on my resume
And place 'em in puddles of blood you can see 80 miles away
Your survival's decided by which side of the bed I wake up on
Worship the works of the wordsmith like it was a cross
My effect on women's hard to explain
I could piss on their head and convince them that it's rain
I'm vain, my six pack makin' bitches love me more
Get out of line, get punched like you Snooki on the Jersey Shore
My raw thoughts are awful
I'm so twisted I could eat an iron nail and shit out a corkscrew
My written's displayed inside of Egyptian pantheons
Chino's bananas, I spit potassium and calcium
And ummm, you ain't feeling my spillings? Only a minor loss
Cause I am bad to the bone like a rotting corpse
My murder monologue keep rappers scared to go up in the booth
Like it's Magic Johnson's wife's vagina raw


[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x2]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"


[Talking Outro] [Celph Titled:]
Yeah
The coalition of the spoken word crack cookers
Celph Titled, Apathy, Chino XL
Shuttin' shit the frrruck down
Buckwild, DITC
Forever and ever, muthafucka
Track Name: Where I Are
[Chorus Vocal] [Blacastan:] [x2]
So why they hatin' on Celph Titled?
[Triggered-Sample Chorus]
"I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know, I don't know"
"Cuz they wanna be where I are, cuz they wanna be where I are"


[Verse One]
Star spangled from harsh angles, bow & arrow arch
Aimed at ya Randy Savage wave cap, ya budget I ate that
I'm the new Pat Sajak
They asked me for a couple letters so my AK spat
(Multiple) hollow-head heat seekers at ya weak features
Like Data from The Goonies with unique sneakers
I'mma slide past wack shit with highly extensive
Combat shit on compact discs
Don't worry if I'm burnin' ya album, cause if I'm burnin ya album
I'm in the backyard, burnin' the album
(Oh yeah) Smokey the Bear'll have to choke on a flare
Am I supposed to be scared? That's like Vin Diesel combin' his hair
Ain't happenin' now, no, nah, not forever
Not a rapper with a better flow, whatsoever
All these biters ride my nuts like a road rail
They wish I had seatbelts embedded in my coat tails


[Chorus Vocal] [Blacastan:] [x2]
So why they hatin' on Celph Titled?
[Triggered-Sample Chorus]
"I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know, I don't know"
"Cuz they wanna be where I are, cuz they wanna be where I are"


[Verse Two]
I first appeared on wax in '98 as a young teen
Now I'm stackin' paper got my thumb green
How many times am I fresh? That's ump-teen
Get dirty with the trigger but I keep my gun clean
That's sparkling shinin', yeah the glittery bling
Vocals so big, the Protools need a 50 inch screen
Hardcore rhymes, jazz riffs and loops
I think y'all forgot what rap sounded like, didn't you?
Let me remind you of a time way back
Where hip hop tracks had hard snares and not lame snaps
Rappers were rappers, drug dealers were dealers
Fans was just fans and the music was much realer
Now it's a clown show, except these faggots
Got a dope boy persona instead of the damn clown nose
I laugh at any critic sayin my style's too humerous
Cause you a insecure boy with an abused uteris


[Chorus Vocal] [Blacastan:] [x2]
So why they hatin' on Celph Titled?
[Triggered-Sample Chorus]
"I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know, I don't know"
"Cuz they wanna be where I are, cuz they wanna be where I are"


[Verse Three]
I get slept on heavily
But I'm an expert with rap whether it be Heavy D or Heather B
I've heard all the beats, all the cuts, all the breaks
All the flows from all the legends in cities state to state
I'm a ace when I study the science of spit
Respect my skill for the one of a kind that it is
Put behind all the early shit you heard of mine
That was before I flipped and decided it was murder time
I stepped my game up, my cadence is impeccable
Lyrics are out of this world, swagger is incredible
And if you can't see that
Then you're probably a rapper yourself wishin' you could be where I'm at
(Man) don't you herbs notice? You can't disturb my focus
My words are so sick, they leave you with tuberculosis
If your CD's got 15 songs
Word is bond it's about 15 songs too long
Track Name: Time Travels On (feat. Majik Most & Dutchmassive)
[Intro Scratch]
("Time goes on")

[Chorus] [Celph Titled:]
I can only see the roads I've been down
Been tryin' to move forward in my life for so long now
To seize the day might not ease the pain
But the hourglass never takes a break
Time travels on, time.. travels.. on ("Time goes on")
Time travels on, time.. travels.. on ("Time goes on")
Time travels on..


[Verse One] [Celph Titled:]
As I, get lost in a cloud of smoke
I just started my day but it ain't ya normal hours though
Most of the time the mic's ripped, I'm on the nightshift
Seems to be the only time I write shit
Easier to say than seize the day
They was here yesterday but now they gone away
I hope it ain't lights out, I hope it's somethin' nice on the other side
Even though I spit lyrics that make mothers cry
Memories fade every minute that pass (by)
But when I'm gone you'll still hear my voice when the song blast (right)
So make the best of your time here
Let your loved ones know that you care cause they ain't always gonna be there
Better plant seeds for your future grow
Don't procrastinate, bullshit, or move too slow
I used to be depressed about this life of mine
But now the clock is my medicine, I get better with time, time travels on


[Chorus] [Celph Titled:]
I can only see the roads I've been down
Been tryin' to move forward in my life for so long now
To seize the day might not ease the pain
But the hourglass never takes a break
Time travels on, time.. travels.. on ("Time goes on")
Time travels on, time.. travels.. on ("Time goes on")
("One-two")


[Verse Two] [Majik Most:]
I'm thinkin' bout my mom as time travels on
Dead and gone, died unexpected
Depression, a billion bad thoughts, brain infected
Suffocation, deep contemplation
Just thinkin' and waitin' like she's comin' back
But facts is facts and my heart is black
I'd give up anything for her to be here
Just 5 minutes, I could whisper in her ear
I love you and in my heart you'll always be near (I love you)
Never will I waste again the opportunity
The lunacy (so stupid) to think for eternity
There'll always be (nah) and not just a memory
Don't intend to be too busy for your family
Cuz time travels on but this song is a part of me
For you to see, don't take them for granted
The worst fate is when it's too late to understand it


[Chorus] [Celph Titled:]
I can only see the roads I've been down
Been tryin' to move forward in my life for so long now
To seize the day might not ease the pain
But the hourglass never takes a break
Time travels on, time.. travels.. on ("Time goes on")
Time travels on, time.. travels.. on ("Time goes on")
Time travels on..


[Verse Three] [Dutchmassive:]
This might be the only chance I have
To tell you that I love you and I'm sorry for the past
Take it or just leave it but I mean it and I'm glad
But it's sad when they misinterpretate how I act
For now I journey on a separate path
Embrace the memories before my heart is split in half
Though half isn't accurate
Cause every single person on this earth is attached to it
My journey is passionate
To live life as I imagine it
And time on this earth is so precious
So with each new second I'm alive I'm attackin' it
The fact is that I'm gracious
I'm thankful for life's sudden changes
Through struggle I'm humble and patient
Ashamed that you left cause I'm destined for greatness


[Outro Scratch]
"Our time is runnin' short so I'll bid you farewell"