D'EE CAN'T FLOW NO MO'! HE ALL INTO LOVE AND SPIRITUALITY AN' STUFF...AWWWWWWWWW SHUCKSSSS!
I dedicate this flip to a cat who shall remain nameless who lived up near Burnside/1-8-3 in the South Bronx(I still owe him 20bucks since like 1985! gotta be interest on that nah mean) and to my sister Twosenuf for real. Yeah and I can't forget Jay-Z who dropped a freestyle wit two's. Oh man..and D'ee(da Hot babe, I see ya lady! We down for life), T-Mobile..Tyrone Mobley(he from Brooklyn but it's all good in the fam) and my new Lil' sista Planted Daisies who be plantin' fool kats like cra-zyyy(the way she be killin' fool kats with her flow..yo fellas don't get on her bad side!)
To be or not to be,
too many topics I drop on cats with the temerity (that means nerve y'all)
to think they can touch me,
I be beatin' tom-toms,
while they wavin' pom-poms,
come on mon, I be your Papa-san,
just because I be up in the Psalms, don't mean I got any qualms,
embalming you with glue from Guam while I eat a croissant,
I can't tolerate your toneless torrents,
I'm gettin' too old for this...HOLD UP! WAIT A MINUTE!
lemme grab my toiletry, so I can do a one not two,
like I usta do up on Burnside, freestylin' n profilin'
for the Rican mamacita's I ate like Doritos tortilla
chips, my flips totally torturing silly MoFo's
like I'm a interrogator at Guantanimo...WHOA!
with that smooth tonality when my tongue torques,
I tussle then topple tone-deaf toads like a cheap toupee,
what I say, it's D'ee Day from Ill-I-aye to the Causeway,
made the ladies sway, back when I was led astray,
Doze where da DAYYYY'S I had two or three dames in Mar-cey
projects, catchin' 'em like cliches, pattern 'em like crochet,
had my cachet, was a Philly cutural attache, them New York ladies loved me,
touche, catchin' Mets games down at Shea, dem fine N.Y. femmes
had me rising like a souffle, the way they would sashay,
yo Jose, teach me some Spanish, so I can man this,
I can't resist, I insist, somebody call an exorcist, b'cuz these femmes
got me meltin' like mini-marshmallows in a mug of Swiss Miss,
yo,
somebody put a tourniquet on this kat, I got his bowels
reactin' like double doses
of Ex-Lax, can't cut him no slack, 'cuz he too cheap to buy a vowel,
don't he know I take syllabic consonants, an' stretch 'em across the continent,
until I'm content, that my vents, have the intent, to make the worst sinna' repent,
like Clark Kent, I take women full of discontent, into my tent,
and...don't even think like that..I'mma..ummm...GENT-TILL-MAN,
can produce from my diaphram, the words I cram, into my ram,
I got to keep slammin' on kats like I'm Kevin Durant,
yo, I'm a Supa-Neegrow, I got that fierce flow that make Lois Lane go..WHOA!
I usta curse, in alotta verse, but my sister Tonya is watchin'
so I gotta be adverse to perverse rhyme perverts and traverse my diverse
diction while I converse and disperse spyt that make you Sh...Ummm..deficate
WHEW! man I caught myself before it was too late,
let me collate these consonants until I make the Eurasian plate brittle like roof slate,
see, I ain't tryin' to wear a halo, God know, that I can flow,
with a glow, that ain't gotta be hallow, so with this talent He bestow, I sow,
seeds of creativity that grow even when it snows,
the various stages of D'ee, from Afros to S-curls, man..SHUT UP!
I dunno why I had one, let's just say the 80's was a decade when men
wore hairstyles like ladies, I tought my drips was kool until they found a dead crow,
in my chapeau, none the less, even when I was temporarily homeless,
I could get some dough, down on 62nd and Ludlow, by droppin' a free style flow
like a ghetto Michaelangelo...WHOA!
yo Carlo, me and my wife ain't together no more ya know,
so, how bout hookin' me up with that fine sista who's related to Pablo,
tell her I wear Brut, by Faberge, High Karate, and Polo,
and when I finish this solo, she can smell me..WHOA!
that's it, I quit, I gotta go..
it's all ova but the cryin'