Yates Lyrics - Special Effects - Tech N9ne

Ever since my cradle date, on my prenatal state 

I was blessed with the gift to disable hate 

With fatal takes on the mic is makin' my halo break 

And smash every lady workin' at Strange, call them my label-mates 

I throw the squad up, them I'ma pour ya broad up 

Genital, so plentiful, ya chemical's low but shot up 

Wishin' they'd slow the god up 

But I ain't trippin' when I rip I'm twitchin' 

They think that I be sniffing on Snow Tha Product 

Bitch I might be, this a nice key, to get ya hyphy 

Dick ya wifey, this for Ike 

Slice of sin or source if ya see somethin' slither slightly 

Step inside the surface of Strange or simply sight-see 

Spit the flow, get the dough, then I hit the ho 

Mister irresistible twisted is this kiss the toes 

I'ma kick ya nose if one of ya pricks oppose 

I'm all he hates, cause I became a landmark like Ollie's Gates 

Molly's great, tall estate, y'all debate, nigga, call me Yates 

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It's no challenge, It's no challenge at all 

When you up the ball against the low average 

The low average, killin' 'em, toetag 'em 

I'ma let you be great though But it ain't no stoppin' a Yates 

Lately I've been like fuck rap 

What? Did he say "fuck rap"? 

Oh no no, Imma write in bold and plus caps 

FUCK RAP 

Cuz all these tough cats really don't have no nut sack 

Trust that 'nuff scratch does back much wackness 

Flush that shit 

Down with the gowns with the sounds for the clowns 

And not in a good way 

You can drown underground with the pounds 

When they gust that shit 

Oh so, low we stojo, hoes and dough negro we flow though 

Let the soul glow, mojo niggas 

Pillowcase, over the head of the industry 

Illustrate, with my mouth and murders my ministry 

Seal the fate of my enemy, feel the way of my energy 

I heal the hate. Facilitate. Disc jockey's will scrilla make 

Then play your records until you break radio 

Ain't nothing but real estate 

Is still a fake deal of mates who ain't real awake 

But them ill is great and ain't no iller ape that can kill a Yates 

Photos 

I can keep my hand, while everybody else losin' theirs 

No Marcus, I told you, don't start this debate 

I'm all arsenal friend, we the medians like, you feedin' me in 

Tired of bein' with the intermediate 

Faded on bullshit, control the whole medium 

I done ran inside my meniscus 

I done out-rapped everybody Christmas 

So why in the hell would I fail? 

If I do, I'm just being (?) 

Front line level, untamed, unchained 

After all this shit, I remain on lane, loser 

And that's what yo ass get for hittin' that snoozer 

My brain is worth the future, and yes, I don't get worked 

So my verses hurts when they send me to kill 'em