The Message Acappella by Avie Fresh Lyrics
Avatar the Articulate - “The Message”
[Emcee(s): Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
[Producer(s): Trackmasters (Original Instrumental from “The Message”)]
[Verse 1: Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
Fake thug, no love, you get the slug. CB4 gusto
My Dutch glow, I gotta roll up a robusto slow
Cubans I’m using, blowing fumes while I’m in plush robes
Sluts offer buttholes, sometimes I take it when I’m vaping
I make it known, no faking. I’m taking hold of this vacant throne
You pagans are clones. I display chrome to make your holmes just lay prone
I’m on a mission, chickens pick me up for pole position
With no ambition, just to get limp, to explode some jism
Forgive ‘em, and rest in peace to Patrice O’Neal
Put on a piece by Heavy D while I grease my steel
And you could keep it real. I ain’t dying for nothing
No prying my clutches off of this globe. It’s suited custom, man
And who could touch this? I bust nuts on bicuspids
Chauvinistic ‘cause, when I fuck, I’m giving women suffrage
I’m giving up my coverage of the streets. I got
The courage, but I’d rather be cuddled up in sweets
That freak trick is laid out, assed up, her face down
Henny-black, blew out her back and had her blazed out
Skilled the L ‘fore I break out, one for the road. Used the
Commode and, out the window, I saw one of my foes. As he
Approached, I held my toast, I felt the speed of my pulse start to race
I had to waste him ‘fore he came up too close. The closer
He got, the toaster I cocked, and then he stopped
Next to a cart to clean the motel, he got a mop. I started
To think: what if I had got a few winks? And he
Wasn’t a telly worker, he was murking for links. I’ll be
Murdered for bling—for certain, it stinks, but I acknowledge it
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit
[Hook: Samples with Scratches by Kid Capri] (x4)
“I never sleep ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death” - Sample from Nas - “N.Y. State of Mind”
“I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing” - Sample from Nas - “N.Y. State of Mind”
[Verse 2: Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
I peeped you fronting. I was in the Porsche, coming from court
Bitches, they hawk, just gawking, fucking since
The days of Walkmans, pushing a Benz in the Balkans
Couldn’t fault him—never had ends. Of course we’re balling
I floss what’s appalling. Try to cross him, you’ll be chalked in
Never brawling, exalt him, praise him. You can’t phase him at the day’s in
It’s so amazing how your best friends could turn to strangers
Delete your Facebook, now you’re shook, snakes know where your place is
I used to shout you out at the end of my tapings
Now it’s abrasive. I had to jot it down on pages
Spit it in phrases, paragraphs, literature, and more I have
You don’t want war with Av. You want it squashed and then an autograph
I’m on the Audubon and stashed with more grass than I ought to have
You spit in hashtags. You’re garbage, kid, trash bag
Murderous lyrics while y’all kids talk brag swag
You’re ragtag. How many Grammys could have Av had?
You think I’m soft. I’ll leave your loft looking like Baghdad
Reload the mag and start to trip like a bad tab
The ace by my waist, vape by my face
Never knew I was thug, you tried to front by mistake. I was
Born in Brownsville, Brooklyn, United States
North America. I get ‘em to motivate
Contemplating war with managers that ain’t really great
Best friends become dangers—when you cake, then they hate
[Hook: Samples with Scratches by Kid Capri] (x4)
“Y’all know my steelo” - Sample from Nas - “N.Y. State of Mind”
“There ain't an army that could strike back” - Sample from Nas - “Halftime”
[Emcee(s): Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
[Producer(s): Trackmasters (Original Instrumental from “The Message”)]
[Verse 1: Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
Fake thug, no love, you get the slug. CB4 gusto
My Dutch glow, I gotta roll up a robusto slow
Cubans I’m using, blowing fumes while I’m in plush robes
Sluts offer buttholes, sometimes I take it when I’m vaping
I make it known, no faking. I’m taking hold of this vacant throne
You pagans are clones. I display chrome to make your holmes just lay prone
I’m on a mission, chickens pick me up for pole position
With no ambition, just to get limp, to explode some jism
Forgive ‘em, and rest in peace to Patrice O’Neal
Put on a piece by Heavy D while I grease my steel
And you could keep it real. I ain’t dying for nothing
No prying my clutches off of this globe. It’s suited custom, man
And who could touch this? I bust nuts on bicuspids
Chauvinistic ‘cause, when I fuck, I’m giving women suffrage
I’m giving up my coverage of the streets. I got
The courage, but I’d rather be cuddled up in sweets
That freak trick is laid out, assed up, her face down
Henny-black, blew out her back and had her blazed out
Skilled the L ‘fore I break out, one for the road. Used the
Commode and, out the window, I saw one of my foes. As he
Approached, I held my toast, I felt the speed of my pulse start to race
I had to waste him ‘fore he came up too close. The closer
He got, the toaster I cocked, and then he stopped
Next to a cart to clean the motel, he got a mop. I started
To think: what if I had got a few winks? And he
Wasn’t a telly worker, he was murking for links. I’ll be
Murdered for bling—for certain, it stinks, but I acknowledge it
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit
[Hook: Samples with Scratches by Kid Capri] (x4)
“I never sleep ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death” - Sample from Nas - “N.Y. State of Mind”
“I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing” - Sample from Nas - “N.Y. State of Mind”
[Verse 2: Avatar the Articulate (AKA Avie Fresh)]
I peeped you fronting. I was in the Porsche, coming from court
Bitches, they hawk, just gawking, fucking since
The days of Walkmans, pushing a Benz in the Balkans
Couldn’t fault him—never had ends. Of course we’re balling
I floss what’s appalling. Try to cross him, you’ll be chalked in
Never brawling, exalt him, praise him. You can’t phase him at the day’s in
It’s so amazing how your best friends could turn to strangers
Delete your Facebook, now you’re shook, snakes know where your place is
I used to shout you out at the end of my tapings
Now it’s abrasive. I had to jot it down on pages
Spit it in phrases, paragraphs, literature, and more I have
You don’t want war with Av. You want it squashed and then an autograph
I’m on the Audubon and stashed with more grass than I ought to have
You spit in hashtags. You’re garbage, kid, trash bag
Murderous lyrics while y’all kids talk brag swag
You’re ragtag. How many Grammys could have Av had?
You think I’m soft. I’ll leave your loft looking like Baghdad
Reload the mag and start to trip like a bad tab
The ace by my waist, vape by my face
Never knew I was thug, you tried to front by mistake. I was
Born in Brownsville, Brooklyn, United States
North America. I get ‘em to motivate
Contemplating war with managers that ain’t really great
Best friends become dangers—when you cake, then they hate
[Hook: Samples with Scratches by Kid Capri] (x4)
“Y’all know my steelo” - Sample from Nas - “N.Y. State of Mind”
“There ain't an army that could strike back” - Sample from Nas - “Halftime”