Flash the Message

John Forte

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    [Jeni Fujita]
    Flash The Message...

    [Forte' - Verse 1]
    Yo...You make me wanna vomit
    Yo, pay homage and dos-e-doe my sonnets
    I school y'all niggas slow on socios and economics
    You mostly know about the dough from airplay
    You only know about the heaters, from the shit that we spray
    Import from Vietnam cats, like my man Phillipe'
    (?) Bustin' crimes back(?) I label it, permanent sleep stay(?)
    Y'all cronies souped up
    My men ain't near dumb, we grew up
    You want your hair done? Hey, FUCK around and get your crew cut
    I organize the mental
    And live my life as the next essential
    Speak on this wild shit, as If I could begin to
    Who fall quick? Too many niggas fightin' over small shit
    You'll find me flippin' stocks, on boats that never dock
    I travel blocks, pick the best man
    Bust shots at the yes man, 'cause it was destined
    for me to flip investments
    Bag a lie, in the basement of the Best Western
    And if you don't want the consequence, then don't ask the question!

    [(Butter - Singing) Jeni Fujita in parentheses] - Chorus
    In Ninety Nine
    Some blow nines
    and some stayed indoors! (Flash The Message, something's out there!)

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    Ninety Nine, is the time
    When the deaf, dumb and blind
    All catch war! (Flash The Message, something's out there!)

    [Forte' - Verse 2]
    It's like...
    Me and my crew
    And a little tour show
    Learned to flip the dough
    With the money we've got
    In Ninety Nine, more war, more crime
    Some'll stay behind doors, and some blow nines
    Your conception is annoying
    Leave the things we was born in
    The street nights, and hope we see the following morning
    Niggas sold soul, for gold ropes
    Do crimes, for new shines
    Poor beer out on the spot, where police drew lines
    Hey yo word, we thirty plus
    Wear guns thats dirty (?) bust (?)
    Ask your men pa, you should've been more (What?)...courteous
    Like my rain drop
    And all my li'l niggas rockin' tank tops
    And sell arms, like government bonds, in Bangkok
    Bank stops on lavish trips
    Soils I marry with, a dime piece!
    A (?)rester oil(?) who speaks in Arabic
    If the karat fit, wear it
    Every man I know hold
    Moreso, y'all niggas happy when you barely go gold!

    [Chorus 1x]

    [Forte' - Verse 3]
    This time it's personal...
    You like the artistry
    Rappers just reuse their first cut
    They say the same shit forever,
    and the use the word, so
    They ain't competing, they knew they was beatin', from the jump
    You get FUCKED! Grammatically speaking...
    You funny man
    Catch me on tour, A town near you
    With 20 Grand (Pikasoe), man it's etiquette
    Snatch your mouth off, for rhetoric
    I hold the greets from the street
    Yet subtle for lockin' shit
    Majored in Poly Sci, with a double doctorate!

    [Chorus 2x]

    Song details

    Composition: John Forté

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