I Call Him Mad - Paris

Rougher than a rusty razor, he’ll amaze ya

Mixin dope tricks that stick like Frasier

Cue the wheels of spin then begins to blend

Scarface in the house again

Bambi DJ’sll pray when he plays

Won’t hit or skip I might phase

Suckers still suck and duckin uppercuts

Strike three MC’s are blazed

Born to beat back the blows of feedback

A sissy strivin still sounds so wack

Can’t compare or come close to purity

Mad’s the man, MC’s agree

The bully bruisin misusin turnstyles

Keeps the mix on beat for me while

I spit and cold bust the keynote

Mad’s on a roll with the sickest show now

(scratching)

Yeah, smooth

{​*"Black is back".

«keep on singin»

«Fight the power!».

«keep on singin»

«Do the right thing».

«keep on singin»

«Word to the mother!».

«keep on singin"*}​

{​*"Girl I’ll house you."

- repeat 4X

«You in my hut now"*}​

{​*"DJ".

«Mad!».

«Huh, what?».

«Tear shit up»

«DJ».

«Mad!».

«Say what?».

«Cuttin like a blade»

«DJ».

«Mad!».

«So.

so.

so sick»

«DJ».

«Mad!».

«Sicker than AIDS"*}​

By now you know Mad’s made to mutilate

Crush and devestate, move and educate

Weak wack watered-down welfare DJ’s.

.

tryin to get what he plays

Call me Paris, sex check the Rolex

We came to stomp and chomp bones of broke necks

So smooth with the movement rhythm tracks

I’m not worried that you’ll be back, just.

Listen.

let him play.

Mad!.. shit.

yeah.

Mad.

Smooth.