Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo) - “Addictive”
[Emcee(s): Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)]
[Producer(s): DJ Quik (Original Instrumental from Truth Hurts ft. Rakim - “Addictive”)]
[Intro: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)]
Yeah, you know’m saying? ‘Cause this shit right here is addictive, son. It’s in the vein, man, it’s in the blood. I gotta have it, man, it’s like a drug, son, you nah’mean? It’s addictive. We need this shit like fiends need crack. Check it out
[Verse: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)]
Mellow
Rhythmatic tactics that make snakes rise out of baskets
When I pack classics, you’ll catch a casket, punk bastard
Chumps mask it, but they bite me, blunts keep me blasting nightly
Dollar is mighty. Suckers don’t like me, but won’t fight me. Cause
Unsightly, macabre imagery, my thoughts alone should keep me
Locked up in a penitentiary for centuries. Sipping
Remy, smoking beadies ‘til my eyes get teeny, tapping
Cristal bottles when I wanna summon my genie
Can’t see me but fiend me, though, like a kilogram. Cause
More grief for fams than Son of Sam with a gun in hand
5-foot-8-inches, lyric pinches like the sword of
A samurai. Let you take me out? I’ll be damned if I
If you think you can, then try. On mics, I’m Annunaki
Nigga, can I die? Like a cannon, you can
Cock me and, to Hell, the shells will damnify. I came
To let the world know—let it be amplified. Word
[Emcee(s): Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)]
[Producer(s): DJ Quik (Original Instrumental from Truth Hurts ft. Rakim - “Addictive”)]
[Intro: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)]
Yeah, you know’m saying? ‘Cause this shit right here is addictive, son. It’s in the vein, man, it’s in the blood. I gotta have it, man, it’s like a drug, son, you nah’mean? It’s addictive. We need this shit like fiends need crack. Check it out
[Verse: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)]
Mellow
Rhythmatic tactics that make snakes rise out of baskets
When I pack classics, you’ll catch a casket, punk bastard
Chumps mask it, but they bite me, blunts keep me blasting nightly
Dollar is mighty. Suckers don’t like me, but won’t fight me. Cause
Unsightly, macabre imagery, my thoughts alone should keep me
Locked up in a penitentiary for centuries. Sipping
Remy, smoking beadies ‘til my eyes get teeny, tapping
Cristal bottles when I wanna summon my genie
Can’t see me but fiend me, though, like a kilogram. Cause
More grief for fams than Son of Sam with a gun in hand
5-foot-8-inches, lyric pinches like the sword of
A samurai. Let you take me out? I’ll be damned if I
If you think you can, then try. On mics, I’m Annunaki
Nigga, can I die? Like a cannon, you can
Cock me and, to Hell, the shells will damnify. I came
To let the world know—let it be amplified. Word
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