"Locked" is vintage Dan-e-o - attacking at full force, his lyrical barrage is complete with wordplay aimed at those who have ever doubted his rhyming prowess.
"Locked" utilizes the "Oh Oh" beat from J Dilla's Jay Love Japan album.
See the "Locked" music video here:
You might think you're gon' to have this game owned
You still need to learn how veterans do
You ain't got the stroke to claim it's your throne
You still got so many cats better than you
You don't know what's dope, you not even close
You need to take notes on what's really hot
You should probably quote two or three or more flows
That prove that I GOT THIS SHIT LOCKED!
The best in the game, never left but never came
Apparently cause I was lame never wanting to sound the same
Comfy in my own skin, tighter than a clothespin
My flows been, thrown in the bin where garbage goes in
Fierce and ferocious, but kids they don't notice
They say, "Come with mo' hits, pretend like you a closed fist"
Sadly I'm designed to, make all of my rhymes true
So why don't you, cover your mouth like you got the swine flu
Cause I'm through with listenin', I find you need discipline
These fine beats from Michigan incline me to piss on men
Suck my nuts pathetic squirrel, you somethin like an epidural
I don't feel you nigga, don't even care if you get referrals
Tired of the game today, hold on like it's layaway
I made you say, "What the fuck's he doin?" like I'm Flavor Flav
Seems I lost my star's shine, missin' like I caused crime
But you'll find, now I make less excuses and more time
To come with vintage shit, infinitely magnificent
Significantly intricate, lyricism so sick as if
It's invalids with syphilis who's into my stuff, nigga what?
You couldn't test me if I pissed in a cup, so what's up?
A killer with a mic, hitter who don't get a strike
Rippin' every pitch in sight, flippin' it how Dilla like
Niggaz think they bright I shut 'em down, like it's Earth Hour
You ain't got no word power, everything I heard's sour
Nerds bow or get hurt, give your fibs a rest jerk
Yes sir, reality's pre-empted on your network
While I be off the wall, you softer than a cottonball
I'm not at all fazed but I'm amazed that you ain't got withdrawal
Cause you ain't got dope shit, I'm nasty like a hoe's spit
My flows get, tighter with time like friends who's close-knit
Here to take your fuckin' cheese, bound to chop your slut with ease
Sucker please, I got more tricks, than what is up my sleeve
Developed like a Fotomat, you admit you wrote the rap?
I'm prone to ask you to tell me, “sorry you had to go through that”
Cause you made my ears bleed quicker than light year speed
ESPN should report you have to brawl with GSP
And seriously be tarred and feathered, flogged and severed
Barred from ever launchin' cleverless awkward rhetoric like
Schwarzenegger and his awful pension for politics, stop your shit
Rock your hit? I'd rather fall on my dick, baller quit!
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