If You Want it
lyrics, vocals, and instrumentals by Emcee Lynx
Living In the Shadow
copyright emcee lynx 2005

Fools be getting in my face cuz I don’t claim thug
And I don’t rap about cars, big pimpin, or drugs
But I’ve never lived that life so I can’t rep that
I gotta speak to where I’m from and where my heart rests at
and that aint easy cuz I come from many places
a long strange road with a lotta strange faces
takin pieces of the past to try and rearrange ‘em
and paint a different picture, but it’s still the same one
You got to come through the past to get to the present
nobody ever said this life would be pleasant
my life growing up was hard, but so what?
This whole world is hard, it’s sick and fucked up
I’m just tryna make the best of the world I was given
Ya’ll tryna make a killin, I just wanna make a livin’
and get in where I fit in with ill rhyme spittin
fiendin’ for the mic, got to feed my addiction

so if you want it come and get it
if you got it, you’d better spit it
cuz when I step to it ya’ll,
I’m gonna rip it
Kickin this percussion
No doubt, no discussion
so If you’re talking bullshit
Be prepared for bum rushin’

I ain’t one of ya’ll fast spitter, tongue-twister mic rippers
Though I got nothing but love for my underground heavy hitters
It’s just ain’t my style, ya’ll, that's not how I flow
I’d rather chill on out and take it slow
Cuz really, what’s the point if folks can’t understand it?
And my people need to know that the systems underhanded
And freestyle is ill as fuck if you can do the shit right
But it’s pretty fuckin stupid if your shit isn’t tight
And most of the rappers I hear are fucking lame
Either spouting clichés or glorifyin the game
you need to go the fuck home and pick up a pen
Write out your very best shit, and then write ‘it again
And really think bout what it is that you’re sayin’
What are you writin for, why you started mic slayin
And before you touch the mic, exercise your intellect
‘cause the battles won or lost before the first mic check

I spit facts when I attack, so I’m citin my sources
a one-man army, your still gathering forces
on some take no prisoners burn it all down shit
all of us are prisoners, I’m sick of getting pounded
The final calls been sounded, this is your last chance
Move your ass to the streets, fuck savin’ the last dance
my mind state reflects how I’m livin day to day
and it pisses me off that I’ve got to pay to play
in a world privatized, but fools don’t realize
what’s behind the lies when terror’s televised
Got a limited tolerance for intolerant assholes
at a certain point, ya’ll, I’m gonna have to blast fools
only so much bullshit one man can take
So you could call me st. Patrick, drivin out snakes
Waitin for ‘em in the alleyway, fuckin up fakes
Tryna start this revolution off, whatever it takes