Come Clean (Dirty Rotten Scoundrel Mix) Jeru the Damaja
"Come Clean (Dirty Rotten Scoundrel Mix)" by Jeru the Damaja, released in 1997, is a #HipHop track that explores themes of authenticity, social justice, and self-awareness. Its sharp lyrics critique societal issues while promoting honesty. The song features jazzy beats and intricate sampling, reflecting the era's underground hip-hop culture.
[Verse 1]
You wanna front, what? Jump up and get buck
If you're feeling lucky, duck, then press your luck
I snatch fake gangster emcees and make 'em faggot flambé
Your nine spray, my mind spray
Malignant mist that'll leave comp' defunct
The results, your remains stuffed in a car trunk
You couldn't come to the jungles of the East popping that yang
You won't survive, get live, catching wreck is our thing
I don't gang bang or shoot out bang-bang
The relentless lyrics the only dope I slang
I'm a true master, you can check my credentials
'Cause I choose to use my infinite potential
Got a freaky, frеaky, freaky, freaky flow
Control the mic likе Fidel Castro locked Cuba
So deep that you can't scuba dive
My jive's origin is unknown like the Jubas
I've accumulated honeys all across the map
'Cause I'd rather bust a nut than bust a cap
In your back, in fact, my rap snaps your sacroiliac
I'm the mack, so I don't need to tote a MAC
My attack is purely mental and its nature's not hate
It's meant to wake you up out of your brainwashed state
Stagnate nonsense, for if you persist
You'll get your snotbox bust, you press up on this
I flip, hoes dip, none of the real niggas skip
You don't know enough math to count the mics that I've ripped
Peep the Dirty Rotten scamp as his verbal weapons spit
You wanna front, what? Jump up and get buck
If you're feeling lucky, duck, then press your luck
I snatch fake gangster emcees and make 'em faggot flambé
Your nine spray, my mind spray
Malignant mist that'll leave comp' defunct
The results, your remains stuffed in a car trunk
You couldn't come to the jungles of the East popping that yang
You won't survive, get live, catching wreck is our thing
I don't gang bang or shoot out bang-bang
The relentless lyrics the only dope I slang
I'm a true master, you can check my credentials
'Cause I choose to use my infinite potential
Got a freaky, frеaky, freaky, freaky flow
Control the mic likе Fidel Castro locked Cuba
So deep that you can't scuba dive
My jive's origin is unknown like the Jubas
I've accumulated honeys all across the map
'Cause I'd rather bust a nut than bust a cap
In your back, in fact, my rap snaps your sacroiliac
I'm the mack, so I don't need to tote a MAC
My attack is purely mental and its nature's not hate
It's meant to wake you up out of your brainwashed state
Stagnate nonsense, for if you persist
You'll get your snotbox bust, you press up on this
I flip, hoes dip, none of the real niggas skip
You don't know enough math to count the mics that I've ripped
Peep the Dirty Rotten scamp as his verbal weapons spit
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