Unreleased Tommy Boy LP Untitled Track 14: Relax Your Mind (Return of the 45) [?] Mr. Voodoo (Ft. Ka)

Mr. Voodoo ft. K.A. - “Unreleased Tommy Boy LP Untitled Track 14: Relax Your Mind (Return of the 45) [?]”
[Emcee(s): Mr. Voodoo]
[Producer(s): Charlemagne]
[Additional Vocals: K.A.]
[Sample 1 (Multiple Elements): Gwen McCrae - “90% of Me Is You” (0:00)]
[Sample 2 (Drums): Power of Zeus - “The Sorcerer of Isis (The Ritual of the Mole)” (0:05)]

[Intro: Mr. Voodoo and K.A.]
Mr. Voodoo: Yo, yo, check it out, yo
K.A.: Yeah, I’m here, baby
Mr. Voodoo: It’s Mr. Voo chilling here with N.E. d-e-f-initely, you know’m saying? I got my man K.A. on the side of me
K.A.: I’m always here
Mr. Voodoo: And we’re ‘bout to do this shit like we used to do in ’93, you know’m saying?
K.A.: Yo, let ‘em know though
Mr. Voodoo: That’s how we came up. We just did our thing, we ain’t know nobody, no nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, none of that
K.A.: None of the that shit
Mr. Voodoo: But, yo, now we’re coming to the new millennium, the 2 Ton, and we’re just gonna dominate it like this
K.A.: 2Gs. I ain’t scared of it
Mr. Voodoo: So check it out as it goes a little something like this
K.A.: Yo, man, tell them niggas what you not, kid, tell them what you not

[Verse 1: Mr. Voodoo]
I’m not
The player or the mayor. Aquarius is the sign
On my zodiac. Drink the strongest proof cognac
With fruit juices. What Voo produces loose the holes in sluts
Induces thugs to grope their nuts, but hold up. I keep
The fattest gear, highest caliber gats near and bring the atlas fear
When I subtract the wackness from the atmosphere
Plug the mic and watch words unfold from the brain
What I write excite thugs like herbs with gold chains
I perceive life as one thief’s plot. When I leave spots
I receive props from those that once believed not. Create
A buzz like dial tones, break beef down to cow bones
And watch competition’s points plunge like the Dow Jones
Hand me a microphone, I’ll peel melons. The wrong
Niggas jailed, and the politicians is the real felons
I got flow, mad flows, but I rarely flaunt ‘em
Volumes of black books with skull and bones on ‘em
To battle me ain’t recommended, but, still, some must contend it
My dreams got fat knots and fat yachts and no limits
Plus guns with Black Talons in it. I keep my murder para-
-graphs indented with my name imprinted. Your whole
Frame is vagina-scented. Every lyric I said
I meant it and end it with a shot to complement it. Now