"Make Love to Beats"  Parental Advisory genre: Dirty South
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	A high tempo dance track about love of ryhming.
	CD: Live From the Underground   Label: Independent Credits: Mixed and recorded by Alfredo Pini for Phatlab productions
	Lyrics Verse 1: Sit back while I’m breakin this up To roll another blunt stuffed with the greatest of bud Cuz when I’m working on a track its like labor of love I’m tryin ta give you half gallons in the flavor of thug I bring to the club, the energy to make you erupt On dance floors, in a trance shakin it up Waitin ta fuck, my dogs all makin a fuss But I’ve been drinkin so much, I think I’m takin the bus Or call me a cab, cuz after that I’m off to the lab I work wit no sleep, just to put my thoughts on the pad Be in the studio spittin till I’m coughin so bad That each verse hurts worse than a mouthful of glass Peep WolF comin out the game, about to aim His muthafuckin mouth of flames To out the lames, believe me I’m about to claim Top status from the madness comin out my brain c’mon Perfected my art for many years Any tears I cried, was the pride from getting here Lend an ear, let me show that I will never fear Anyone except the guy that I see in the mirror cuz…. Bridge: This is my heart, my blood, my sweat, my tearz, my life, my love That’s why when cats are fallin backwards I still rise above Like if y’all assholes wanna battle come and find a thug Cuz this is my heart, my blood, my sweat, my tearz, my life, my love Chorus: I love to rhyme, make love to beats and fuck the lines Like some bump and grind Have the track bendin back when I’m up inside And getting shaky in the thighs when I’m bustin mines Verse 2: I was gone but I’m back now, putin this track down In fact I been writin this LP like I’m cracked out Workin all hours of day until I pass out I’m seein two mics, so this might, just be the last round But tomorrow I’ll be at it again Throw rhymes when I got my pad and a pen No time for nine point fives, after a ten I’ll find these MC spies and battle them Return of the artisan, enemies caught sleepin Allergic to fear, so I tear and start sneezing When I be seein’em fleein on dark evenings Runnin at the mouth, I doubt ya want beef then I’m getting ready to blow up this whole town If you wit me dawg, then roll up a whole pound O-town, this is the city I hold down There’s no doubt baby so pass the gold crown Relax and slow down, I don’t give a fuck An I’m lit an I’m drunk off the fifth in the trunk Fittin ta get shorty ta strip in the club No I ain’t a rap star but she did give it up cuz…. Verse 3: I thought I’d go out with a bang on the last track Like I rolled a phat sack and I’m fittin ta pass that Fuckin wit these rap cats, livin by the fat rat You about to give the mic back, Can I have that? In the Phatlab, I’m a sucker punch an jab cats Been here for a minute? Where’s ya muthafuckin stats at? Probably take a chilly dog for you to move ya fat ass Runnin mad laps, right around you wit a fast track That’s that, I ain’t fuckin around, I’m shuttin’em down I’m high, floatin up in the clouds I’m runnin outta weed so whats up with a pound But fuck it for now, the drink got me stumbling around So feel it for a hot minute, your head and neck’ll bop wit it Sixtyfour impala lowriders’ll drop wit it An we ain’t stopping it, soda wit schnapps in it Haters get to runnin out the building like theres cops in it Theres so much pop in this, shady hip hop bizness Its time to burn the industry an put a stop to this Rep Orlando better than any metropolis My only option is, total apocalypse

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