Ghost (feat. Tech N9ne) - Prof

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Ghost (feat. Tech N9ne) Lyrics

What am I to do when all I really see is garbage?
They all narcissistic and harmless
Delusionally carsick
What I'm talking 'bout is all these rappers on the market
Claiming they got skill I beg your motherfuckin' pardon?
Make me wanna barge in some apartment and start arson
(Awesome)
Put a rapper body in a garden
Am I a Martian, we on the same planet?
I don't see anybody fuckin' with me god dammit
Prof -- I been hot since Michael J. Fox could talk
I'm a genius and use my cock a lot
The last one who's underrated who yet hasn't made it anyway, mazel tov
I'm better than a midday fuck
Name a rapper man I think they suck
I'm gonna buy an old big grey truck
Watch, I'll drive around the country with my fists taped up, yup!
Ya'll a puddle of piss
Love it or not, at least I give a hundred percent
Is it 'cuz I ain't covered in tattoos?
Well sit back cupcake I got bad news

You can't look me in the face!
Tell me you're satisified!
Look me in the face!
Are you satisfied?
You can't look me in the face!
Tell me you're satisfied!
You can't look me in the face!
Are you satisfied?

When I listen to the radio it be like Comedy Central
I wanna be gentle, but I gotta come and drop the bomb on these simples
Who honestly sent you the vomit, they promised on it
But it really gets sonically mental
Imma be into placin' a big cannon at thee temple
Bang on 'em a lot of em never was hot to me
Shockingly popped awesomely profits be
Toppin' the charts, even got a Hot Topic Tee
Watch the G, *Pop* *Pop* Give a colostomy (Damn)
I can't kill 'em when they wack
But forreal the N9na's skill can kill 'em in a rap
The feelin' is through the ceilin' when I'm wheelin' through the trap
Dealin' music a million Tech the villian will adapt
But alot of these motherfuckers are crap, crap
I think we should put together an app for the rappers
That don't have a rhythm bone in they' ass, a disaster
But'll teach em to never thinkin' they' swagger's Alaska
When they bizzuti, wanna give 'em this uzi
Mi scusi, did you say the way I'm speakin' is bougie?
That's where you lose me, how pathetic can you be?
When sayin' these fools be better than me that's a doozy!
Rap, everybody wanna try it
But the Tecca Nina flow you can't deny it
Laughin' at a lotta rappers I can't hide it
But it ain't they' fault, it's the motherfuckers that buy it

I've been so close
Come to think about it I'm a ghost
Some people believe in bibles
Some believe in somethin' that their eyes don't know
So I'm about to tell you how the cycle go:
(Okay!)
I've been swimming uphill for a decade plus
It's like the country walkin' over a billion barrels of oil
They ain't even found me cause of the mud
Find out Prof is a ghost that lives
With a neck like that and a rope like this
Flow like bricks
So underrated that I held my dick 'til I broke my fist
And these days, rappers'll show up and spit on a track
Make me wanna throw up and shit on a track
Put a lid on that
Roll it up into a blunt, take a hit on that
I'm so gifted it's like Santa's here
I roll deep even got my grandma here
So fly, oh my I need landing gear
So bright, ya'll might, get your tanning here
Gimme your can of beer
You can tell a bandit near
I'll come around in circles blacker than a panda's ear
You follow Captain Planeteer
I shine like a chandelier
The only motherfuckin' man in here
*Gasp*

Lyrics provided by LyricsEver.com
If Prof had things his way, people would think he was nothing more than a heavy-boozing, free-wheeling playboy. His lyrics are sometimes rude and usually downright crude. He boasts in his rhymes about how he’s pretty much the shit at everything. He’s even performed shows where he makes himself get so drunk he throws up before going on stage.

Unfortunately for Prof, there’s an underlying seriousness to his lyrics that he tries his hardest to cover with layer upon layer of party-perfect beats and rhymes. Growing up on the South Side of Minneapolis, Prof matured in step with the local hip-hop scene. In his 24 years, he’s seen some shit that can’t help but escape from his memory and into his songs, lending his lines the kind of wisdom that can only be born on hard city streets. He started free styling in eighth grade and, although he likes to have fun with his music, the swiftness of his rise to local fame shows how seriously he regards his rap career.

A rowdy young buck who loves a good time, Prof wants his music to inspire others to party it up with him. In a world where credibility is currency, Prof sticks a middle finger to those who feel hip-hop should be straight-faced and serious.

“Everyone’s trying to be a preacher or a politician— telling you how to live your life,” he says. “I’m not running for Senate. I’m doing this for fun and I don’t watch my mouth.”

Prof’s debut solo album, Project Gampo, definitely made a lasting impression on local music critics and hip-hop heads. “Prof is wall-to-wall here in all his glory, with clever one-liners out the a**, hyperactive and delicious vocab spills popped like collars- picture a supreme smarta** with gorilla swagger and a mouth as fast as his mind… Point blank, this kid’s got more flavor and flow than all five of your favorite MCs combined.” (City Pages, May 12, 2008) Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.

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Prof