Kwest - “Bourbon Street”
[Emcee(s): Kwest]
[Producer(s): Aneeway Jones]
[Co-Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda]

[Verse 1: Kwest]
Inhale, then exhale
My flow’s been known to blow boats off-course once I set sail
Still spitting phlegm with more hidden gems than Candy Crush
Still ill, skills covered in quills—I still can’t be touched
I never feed you nothing I didn’t crave. Got an
Appetite for destruction, and hip hop’s a buffet. And you
Be scared. I’m prepared if you could check my thoughts. Y’all call up
Doctors when you sick. I’ll dial up tech support. See?
Our way vowels and consonants still gets piles of compliments
I just write what I feel with delight—that’s plain common sense
Today’s emcees are empty, and most of my favorites fell down
But I haven’t smoked in years, so why the hell would I take an L now?
New dudes all about: “Where the [?], lean, and pills at?”
Kid, some of them mumbling—son, I wonder: “Where the fuck the skills at?”
I humbly will stun in some emcees because, to some degree
It’s still fun to me to place the lesser ones up under me
Tuh, I come from an era when gods had to cause terror, tear a
Hole in your soul if your flow was flawed or with errors/air. Is there
A lesson to steer like: he was looking in the mirror
Better get him a suit to wear and call the fucking pallbearers
Twenty-years-plus rhyme veteran, prime specimen
One of the best artists you never heard of, Tom Wesselmann
Don’t believe these raps special? Try testing him. That’s like picking
Tony Jaa and his Muay Thai ‘cause I’ll scream, “Freshman wrestling”
Been M.I.A. from the M-I-C for a minute. Now the
O.G. ready to G-O EPMD Back to Business
Create heat on breakbeats and beat breaks like a sadist
My tongue come with boxing gloves, and you’re rocking with the greatest
[Verse 2: Kwest]
See, Tom is an
Armed atomic bomb in the palms of Islamic extremists
Forewarning: very hard to extinguish
Far from a genius, but on par and remarkable with English
Type smart and a cunning linguist—I does my thing, prick
Welcome to the Kwest Experience. I know I made less
Appearances, but you should feel blessed from just hearing this
Serious, a lot’s changed in this game since I left it
Like [?] from rap and real rap? It’s getting hectic
They talk it but don’t live it. I see it—you can’t stomp Thomas
Rhymes are about as official as a Trump promise
No love connection, I hear this crap and lose erection
Shake my head at this shit like our choices for the election
‘Bout to start a GoFundMe, leave this godforsaken country
Fuck Hillary and Trump—I didn’t vote for either one, see?
The antihero to this real messed-up establishment
[?] or incite riots, then join the masses, grabbing shit
Too hype to be at hotep, potent like cobra [?]
My [?], just want respect like old vest
This negro’s somewhat of an enigma, hard to figure
Out—no doubt—but, somehow, the chicks really dig ya. Don’t see
Competition. I see cheddar biscuits, two entrees
Eat my foes whole, spit out bones—nothing left on plate
Wash ‘em down with lemonade Guru-style—not that Beyoncé
If you dreamed you’ll see me one day, call that a blind date
So any herb who has words or thoughts of curbing me, get up
Your currency and make sure your will is very current, B
Call 911 emergency and FDNY when I burn
In unheard degrees ‘cause I got more bars than Bourbon Street