DJ Self ft. The Bad Seed, Ores, and Cocoa Brovaz - “Stranded on Rawkus”
[Emcee(s): The Bad Seed, Ores, Tek, and Steele]
[Producer(s): [?]]

[Verse 1: The Bad Seed]
Who said there’s thugs in here? We just got here
They ain’t at the bar. Where they at? Not here
I’m from Brooklyn, New York, and n***as get shot here
Heaters is hot here, guns go “pop” here
I don’t fuck with gangs, but I’ll box some blue on some red
And I don’t want to fuck your wife—I’ll be good with some head
You know Bad Seed 5’9”, real big cock
N***as hear me spit, wild out, and kill cops
And even in a snowstorm, n***a, I’m still hot
You could call me what you want, but, n***a, I’m still pops
Still had your mother bent over in a Rover
My hands on her shoulders, hitting my big boulders

[Verse 2: Ores]
Motherfucker never
Seen me. Better believe me: I’ve seen you
You’re see-through, always talking ‘bout “me too.” Couldn’t
Be you. I need to be where water be blue so I could
See you getting smaller, skating on the sea dunes. Charging
The major, military man, I spit shine
To get mine. Y’all just help each other get time
On the sales, we’re quarter-mill moneymakers and fake nuns
Where I’m from, many man are forced to take one, and you could
Trust I’ll pull out, bust whoever take for granted
For keeps, you’ll be buckwheat, somewhere hugging the planet
My man, I understand you’re feeling hard-pressed
But God bless. Now you’re in the way of progress as your
Air gets thin. Make your girlfriend sin, make
Your flow look sim’, make your dough get slim ‘cause I
Spit such, n***a, nothing but the treacherous and I’ll
Split Dutch, loving my shit with one touch

[Verse 3: Tek]
Shotgunning the millennium, pushing the buck
On my way to the airport to pick something up. I ain’t
Got to say what ‘cause it attract the hounds, and y’all
Dudes move ‘round like y’all wireless sound. Tear
Y’all down like tracks over the plate, let the
Doctors try to close up the holes in your face. You know
Tek’s wave king, rocking a fro. Did the
Same with my dough for the summer, let it grow while y’all
Playing on the block like little children on the block, getting
Knocked by unmarked just for smoking on the block
Here’s The Streets Part 1 Mixtape from Rawkus
[?] rest in peace, [?]

[Verse 4: Steele]
Smif-N-Wessun, we a army, pro-black like Garvey
The streets camouflage me and God guards me in this
Concrete safari, find rest hardly
No slumber, we hunger, ready to jump up, waiting in
Bunkers. Gunfights like earthquakes and thunder
Stormy weather among us. Always ready for ruckus
Nunchucks and black Chuckers, brass knuckles and brass
Buckles, mask and glove with massive motherfuckers
Heat-seeker creep terrain with a streetsweeper
Strongest creature. Only weakness: I need reefer
The gatekeeper, S-T a great speaker
More than the average emcee—n***a, I’m way deeper