Harlem is in the fucking building grant houses 125ST

Comptons Most Wanted | Wanted (1991)

Simply Mac-N | Let Her Go (1993)

Once again it's the man with the flavor
It's lord finesse so run and tell your neighbors
So stop sleeping and check out the style I'm freaking
I stomp opponents and give hoes the silent treatment
Forget striking out, I'm hitting grand slams
Taking opponents off the stage like the sandman
After apollo I'm the one to follow now
I kick the shit that biters can't swallow down
Mics get lit up as soon as I get up
Opponents I hit up, make em quit and want to give up
I'm kicking a party like kung fu
Snatching all the girls as soon as I say "one two"
Brothers think I'm new, but they're dead for instance
I was into rap before they could form a sentence
I'm finally getting mine after coming up the far way
So nowadays I just lounge and parlay
I'm hip to music, whether jazz or country
I'm the type to make anything sound funky
I like to talk and show and go and flow
Ayo, some brothers just don't know
That I can take on any played out wack style
Rhymes so deadly you should put them in a crack vile
I kick a rhyme as soon as you say when
So hype on the mic, when I finish you say "amen"
I'm not the type to go around fronting
Ayo, they don't call me lord finesse for nothing

"it's the l-o-r-d f-i-n-e double s-e"
"all the party people say isn't he something" (repeat 2x)

Here we go, it's the grand imperial
With the hip material to blow your stereo
I sound different and my shit be hitting
It's the funky technician pay attention, listen
I flow smoothly like a scene in a movie
Girls that choose me say that I'm a cutie
Rough like a fistfight when I'm holding this mic
So keep your lips tight if you can't get my shit right
You can't beat this, better yet top this
I hold the crowd like Saddam hold a hostage
I get ferocious so I approach this
The girls are sweet like the cream from a hostess
Yeah, I keep the cash flow
In a fight I throw the first and the last blow
So those that's yakking you'd better be packing
I catch a wreck like a whole mob attacking
I flow with quickness, mc's are too slow to get this
I preach on the mic like a jehovah's witness
Give me a mic, watch me soar
Not daddy kane or eddie murphy, but I get raw
Two different tempos, a fast or a slow one
Me a wack mc? well it takes one to know one
Rhymes with the quickness and swiftness so come and get with this
Or be about your business
Always got something to keep the crowd jumping
Ayo, they don't call me lord finesse for nothing

"it's the l-o-r-d f-i-n-e double s-e"
"all the party people say isn't he something" (repeat 4x)

I get loose to make mc's step back
Brothers try and diss me but I don't sweat that
I'm able to stop a crew, pass any obsticle
I'm not bobby brown, but I still wanna rock with you
Smooth rap maestro, wild like a psycho
Step to this and get sparked like a light show
I flip like an acrobat, kicking rhymes back to back
Even with faster raps there's still more after that
Finesse is the funky technician and the one man
Who burn mc's quicker than a suntan
So the days of struggling, that's behind me, son
I got some shit for that ass in '91
So step back as I flow onward, man
Listen, I turn a house party into a concert
Brothers bite and quote, crazy rhymes I wrote
I don't get mad, that just prove they take notes
Suckers that lack this can't catch this or match this
They need practice with they played out tactics
I stand ahead of them, a smooth rap veteran
Relieve any crowd like a dose of exederin
When it comes to fights with mics I can hold mine
First album was dope, second one should be a goldmine
I make party people go "isn't he something"
Cause yo, they don't call me lord finesse for nothing

"it's the l-o-r-d f-i-n-e double s-e"

Lord Finesse | Isn’t He Something (1991)

Song about unfortunate black youth growing up in the gang infested enviornments of Los Angeles hoods and the consequence of living the gang life.

Compton is the place that i touched down.
I opened my eyes to realise i was dark brown.
And right there in the ghetto that color costs.
Brothers smothered by the streets meaning we're lost.
I grew up in a place where it was go for your own.

Don't get caught after dark roaming the danger zone.
Cause it was hell at the age of 12
As my compton black brothers were in and out of jail.
Years went by, i played on with the school crap.
Made it half way, it didn't pay, so i said fuck that.
Cause right then it was the cash i was after.
The street had a beat so i was caught up in the rapture.
It said sell, sell, sell.
And after that it was jail, jail, jail.
I also kept a nine as my toy.
I was only 15, so boys will be boys.
So by 16 i was hip to the groove
And fucking any stupid black bitch that move.
And on top of that i was down for the hood.
If you from compton you know that the hood is where its good.
So load up the gatts and its down the avenue.
I'm kinda fucked up so i guess i'll kill a few
Punk niggas trying to scheme on my tip.
Geah i'm selling the cavi and i'm checkin a grip.
But now the high rolling days been cancelled.
Damn, they kidnapped my homie for ransom.
But thats an everyday thing thats what the news play.
One times can't do shit so why the fuck you pay.
And this goes out to all them niggas that know whats popping.
Fool thats when your raised in Compton.

X2

Drug wars, you got the pushers and the pimps
And to make things worse you got the bustas and the wimps.
Gank bitches trying to scheme on my money.
Sucker punks tryna jack, now aint that funny.
But i'm a young nigga, with a respectable rep.
But my brothers gangbanging, i guess i'll follow in his footsteps.
Claiming a set, jacking a brother,
Beating a bitch, you diss the hood i'll put you 6 feet under.
Who gives a fuck if its wrong, no time for thinking.
Just think of the bud and the 8-ball drinking.
So now its time to show my loyalty.
Shoot up my enemy territory.
And my brothers got my back they wont trip.
And i'm in it to win it so i won't slip.
It was like we had a gangbang rally.
A thousand mutherfucking thuggish niggas in the alley.
So while we waited to peel they cap
The suckers crept, damn, shot me in the back.
So now i bail in a wheelchair, no more stomping.
Raised in compton.

Geah, y'knowutumsayin?
Mc eiht and compton's most wanted putting niggas to rest.
Side by each, y'knowutumsaying? putting em down.
Cause compton is the place with the base
And if you don't like it take 2 to the face.
MC Eiht, and i'm outta here.

Lord Finesse | Isn’t He Something (1991)

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