Where should I begin with this? They on that beginner shit, novice now they nonsense not as novel as my simple shit. Now his nomenclature coincide with the paper, So reside where them scrapers fell, ride elevators. Now my lines have no neighbors cept yo mama and yo cousin too. Rollin down the strip on vogues, model from the cover shoot. Now I'm tryna cover two, get them under covers too, west coast offense, safety first no run n shoot. You can check my running shoes, hangin like rosewood, throw wood, call it Carmen Haze if that throat good. They aint got no option, I play N C double A. The game is under my control, yo remote empty double a's. Throw some d's on that bitch, only energizer. I stay shitting on these niggas like I'm in a scheizer. Pants on the ground, bad moon like Andre Rison. Burn this down and make the net work like Verizon. They all waitin, they all watching in awe. Bitch I Shawshank em, that's bars. Pause. Parallel bars. Pause. No gymnastic but applaud. This a classic best duo, Clipse covered like Kaws. Damn! did I say that? Shoot for the stars, pray they don't take that wrong. On to the next one, more applause. On to the fresh. I dress up to turn hoes down if they are last season like lost. Make exception for this beat, ima rider like clause then sleigh it for the kids, hand delivered free of cost.
They want that super stupid shit. Well I get stupid super quick. Pose problems to my pockets I promise I'll pop off on that pops shit. Thats bang bang. I don't pop shit. I don't gang bang. That's not chris. But I maintain I don't play mane. They stay sayin that's hot shit. What's that? Oh... What I spit. Oh that? Nigga thats not shit. I heard it got em nervous so I do this shit on purpose. The super stupid verses just let em scratch and sniff the surface. The verses with purpose leave em head scratching when they heard it. Pay attention how I word it. Syntax is oh so perfect. I tax, Just go purchase under mattress where the work is. The packages I'm serving keep sistas jukin, twerkin. My music keep em kirkin. Thats DC for jappin. Thats Chi Town for snappin. We outchea. What's happenin? No hot shit? What's that then? The Paxtons get it crackin. Thats crack in pyrex cookware. Cook where we live not crib therefore this project so Manhattan. Took there, hit lick, unfair how Dave and Chris stay manufacturing shit that keep djs scratchin. Keep fans fiending, stans leaning. Sans screaming creamies we got everything we needing. Beats beating. Pins bleeding. Pardon, bbm pins. Tweets tweeting. Sheets steaming. Rhymes scheming. Baby stacks now teething. True haters teeming with envy. My team stronger than any. We not just simply winning. This a certified Blow out No doubt, Chris and Dave, The Paxtons, niggas that you need to know bout.
from The Manhattan Project,
track released September 7, 2010
(C. Butler, D. Giles, J. Neal). Beat by Chuck Inglish. Recorded by The Paxtons, New York, NY. Mixed by Zacharias Wise at Depth Charge Studios, Alexandria, VA.
In an industry where perception routinely trumps reality, it’s easy to confuse instantaneous buzz with enduring success.
Deriving their name from the block on the south side of Chicago where they were born and raised, The Paxtons strive to create timeless, genre-bending music that innovates without regard to the latest trends....more