Prologue (Intro to "Organized Rhyme Family")

Yo I ain't your typical punk I'm not a baller that's hittin' a dunk I'm too materialistic for monk Plus I hit on the skunk Like Pepe Le Pew And I'm a bit of a drunk So I be gettin it crunk I mean I'm just a local rapper in a bit of a slump But I got fans around the world and that's been liftin me up I heard I'm never gonna pop with all the lyrical stuff And I ain't conscious enough I don't do political junk Thinkin' maybe I should make some kinda character up So I could let him go and pick the double darringer up Buryin arrogant cunts out somewhere in the mud Removin any kind of finger prints, hair, and the blood Gonna mortify minds with this Organized Rhyme shit Borderline lyin it'd be sorta like my Slim Sure I might die but it's worth the time tryin' To unearth some kinda diamond clears throat We're done bein' the realest rappers you know You know who we are so lets remove the R And shit we're still the illest rappers you know But we'll be cappin too so we gon' peel a cap or two though On some Martin Scorsese meets Quentin Tarantino For an album with the vibe of The Sopranos TV show We don't need a HBO Or label CEO Cause the way we flow Gonna make the CD go Crazy in the streets, Spotify, and Radio For the Gottis, Lucianos, the Capones, and the Gambinos We the new Rob Deniro, Joe Pesci, Al Pacino This our Goodfellas, Godfather, Scarface, and Casino I'm just tryna stack my c-notes Sip a glass of pinot Script on a typewriter tryna plan a scene out We about to make some M's changin what "M" means now From "Music" to "Mafia" in G. House Think about it You fuckin with the Griffin House Mafia A slug's what I got for ya My gun kept it hot for ya I'll smoke you like tilapia Chop you up and toss you in the ocean With the octopus and dead police officers It's obvious there ain't no one stoppin us We went from rock bottomers to real block conquers Hide you in the concrete, build tall monuments Real talk, monstrous Wife at home cookin up a meal some kinda pasta dish With mozzarella and marinara sauce in it Otherwise it's lobster, shrimp, steak You know we mobster rich The only thing we broke is bones and promises Who cares what Congress says I paid off plenty chairs in offices Corrupted politics The Don's the mayor of all this And we been passin bills I'm talkin envelopes of dollars Takin' care of problems I'mma pop em like my collar I'm a dog off the leash I'm a fuckin rotweiler Riggin IPO's I'm a lucky stockpiler Tradin inside information with a couple top buyers All the money got wired To the made man standin here I make a couple hundred racks a year Bein' a racketeer Come to my establishment Have a beer We don't let no bugs, don't got no rats in here And we don't let no cameras near the Griffin House We gon make a toast soon as the family's here If you get too close we'll have to show you to the man upstairs Have your prayers in order if you ever make me mad I swear I'll break your neck and noose you to a fan above a plastic chair Or I'll throw you to the wolves or feed your ass to bears So if you rat, beware House Gang