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letra de sofrito on the dumplings - verbal mcmahon

ima bullsh-t…
ayo, check me out

[verse 1]
sofrito on the dumplings, apollo’s iced tea
a large containter; unharmed, i’m dodgin’ danger
had to pay dues before i moved to harder chambers
now i’m a sith lord, my whole squad is armed with sabers
the sure shot, i’m the one they bettin’ on in vegas
a touch of showtime, you would think i balled with lakers
left hand adjust the right glove, resemble kane
or maybe dexter, either way my mental strained
corrupt king, i’ll put a dagger in a rebel’s brain
got visions you can’t imagine, cause your temples pain
my homies heard me spit, said “you got a special thang”
reinforcement; middle fingers, steve austin
verb ventura, though my jungle is concrete
after you hear my calm speech, kiss the don’s cheek
if they soft & pretty, might kiss your broad’s feet
never meant to break any hearts, but they all sweet
sour stinkin’ up my aura, rock the black fedora
you got your back to me, so once you turn watch me gore ya
mamadukes produce the magic from a can of goya
papadukes take advantage with corrupt lawyers
heir to the throne, crown on; jerry lawler
f-ck all you earlybirds, verb the nightcrawler
barely see the sun, i’m cunning & i spit the fire
rock the crisp attire, shorty help me fix my tie up
rhymin’ with simon & cgod, twist the lye up
courtin’ ladies goin’ crazy just to kiss the sire
mr. higher power himself
me and my ninjas out to down a couple cowards with stealth, what?!

don’t even stop me
i ain’t done
ima come right back in
check it

[verse 2]
all these clowns think they the truth, they far from it
you might catch me in a ugly old car stuntin’
old farts bumpin’ to the verbal on the speakers
known to keep the herbal in the sneakers
jays to be exact, you amazed at how he rap
police chases on the ave, see the faces from the past
we the aces you could ask, somethin’ tasty in the flask like h2o
my face too low; gee i think you need to turn it up, the b-ss too low
ayo, i’m over your head; umbrellas in the rain, uh
the mental stellar, young fella got game
the type to write a best-seller, i’m better through the pain
i’m like mike with the flu; the nightlife with the crew
true to roots, since the youth he eat the rice with the stew yo
bump nofx and das efx; i’ll put a redsock to death
murder murder scenes, verb leave cops a mess, the east top the west
trees copped for less; my mans is a drug lord
chopped, watchin’ natgeo monster bug wars
maybe lions, maybe wolves, maybe sea creatures
keep beats for self f-cker, i don’t need features

straight up, word up
peace to the dream team
milesmck i love you b
haha…did i get it?

- verbal mcmahon

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