Capital Tax - The Masha Lyrics

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Artist:	Capital Tax
Song Title:	The Masha
Visits:	728

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Ahahahahahaha...

Yes... the masha's back (well alright!)

And you don't stop, and you don't stop

And you don't stop to rock, keep on

Yeah, and you don't stop

Yo I'm back in this shit, I'm back in it to win it

So check it as I spin it, yo

[TMD]

Beware beware, as the T starts to step up

I kick shit like a soccer player just to keep my wreck up

The double decker, Treemania is what I'm causin

Mass hysteria so beware in your area

for it's slick, can ya feel it and flip it and like Whip It

like Devo, pull stunts like Kenievel

It's evil, when you see a brother like in action

The Masha, rippin shit up, cause I'm Taxin

Then askin, questions later the innovator

The Total Mic Devestator just call me the motivator

And get down, to my mad ass rhythm section

Then check the diction, cause rhymes cause friction

when I flex, holds more words than a rolodex

Good like Chex, crazy fly like a Rolex

So umm whatever you call it no time to stall it

Aiyyo, you best to like haul it and beware of

The Masha

Chorus:

The Masha, the Masha (repeat 4X)

[TMD]

Yeah, yeah, yo check it out

I gives a damn like Uncle Sam, won't sweat ya like Spam

But if ya try to flip, Kool Al tell him who I am

(Len Robertson) yeah, you know umm, the mic scandal

I gets nuff props, crazy plaques on my mantle

My rhymes, they soothe, comfy like a sandal

And plus, I goes the long mile as if a camel

Uh-huh, uh, the funky rhyme kicker can you dig it

And I could give a damn about a racist or a bigot

So swing it to KKK and all you phonies

I mash on that ass so bump my tape like in your Sony

No baloney, the rhyme style kid, is back to wreck it

Mic check it, so you best to like respect it

Sloppy hip-hop, your definition

Flippin them styles, and stompin niggaz asses that be dissin

And then we're out of there, gone fishin

I swear, so suckaz beware, yeah, of

The Masha

Chorus

[TMD]

Uhh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yo bring that beat, bring that beat back check it, check it

When I step in the arena, hookers fiend ta

see the Tza wax like Pledge, then shake my funky dreads

On the freestyle, (shiiiiit) rip the topic

And just like padlocks, the master has to lock it on up

Like the nappy fros that I sport

And niggaz musta thought that the master took shorts

but, give me a cartoon, a comic that's a funny

Cuz I can give a shit how ya feel like Al Bundy (ewwwww)

But yet I hits the spot like a sundae on a Tuesday

But trick ass niggaz, they can't fool me

But check it, I gots more cents than four quarters

a dollar, make all the tramps scream and holler

as I vic em (hoo, hah, T stick em)

Yo pass the mic cause jackasses I'ma kick em

Dead in they chin and leave a snaggletooth grin

And then, hop in the Ac and take a spin with

The Masha

Chorus

[TMD]

Aiyyo, last but not least ya can't convict like Gotti

Back again ta spin that looney kid rocks the party

So all aboard my train or git soaked like sponges

by the rowdy, rough riff-raff up out the dungeon

The Lab, I peel suckaz off like scabs

And leave shit bloody, as if Maxi-Pads

Moms and dads, close friends and all cousins

I'm out to fly heads, and the nigga ain't buggin

So watch ya step or stay pep like a rally

Cuz I can shake it, like Andre is up in Cali

The Valley, but don't shake a nigga with a fork

as I guzzle a quart, to Freak the Tales like $hort

With pleasure, then clock crazy dough like a beggar

Ya lag, ya lose, but betcha ass I won't let up

Gutter sniper get outta pocket with the piper

I swear, I'm back, so beware

Chorus (continues until fades)

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