Thug-O-Nomics – song

 

Here’s a track for a serious antagonist to the hero The Stunning Beeboy. I wrote these verses way back for this character, but made the beat and recorded it today. It’s a rough, but I had to share. Thug-O-Nomics is a studio gangsta. He’s the top seller on Sound Off Records. He used to date Beeboy’s sister. Beeboy doesn’t hate many people more than he hates Thug-O-Nomics. But the song is thorough.

 

Verse 1
The streets know my name but they scared to say it
They know I pack that napalm ain’t afraid to spray it
Raps incriminating ni**a I can fill a morgue
But I paid all the judges so f*ck it hit record
Pump more white than winter- stack bricks like igloos
My peoples 5% I know more Gods than hindus
Talking G-packs, i talk to folks in Nicaragua
Think the block is hot, I stay walking through lava

Verse 2
Thug-o-nomics it’s supply and demand
You got it I want it no denyin the man
Been a stick up kid, been crook and a booster
Sometimes I ask aggressively don’t make me shoot ya
Don’t want your blood on my money ,my chain or my kicks
Bullets move fast so  you better make it quick
Hard way or easy way come on take your pick
Thumb is on the hammer ’bout to make it go click
Finger on the trigger I can make it go bang
So break yourself fool or you bout to know pain
I’m a pusher I’m a pimp I’m a thug and a thief
My name’s on all the blood and the drugs in the streets
Crystal meth, ecstacy, marijuana, coke
Mushrooms, Lsd, mescalin, dope
Uppers  and downers everything in between
You lovin’ the song guess that makes you a fiend
My catalogs a rapsheet lyrics is crack
Hard to make it out the streets with your spirit intact
They need some ghetto heaven, but I’m givin’ ’em hell
Became a better criminal from a prisoners cell

Verse 3
I put my hood on the map, put my hood on my back
As For the fiends put my hood on the crack
Them Rocks is designed by me Thug-o-Nomics
Epidemic my sickness Make you wannna vomit
Thug-o-Nomics give you a lead colonic
My spit is toxic – said to be demonic
Err body know I pack heat – like a thermos
Don’t make me circulate my heat – like a furnace
I got to, ’cause my Ice is like glaciers
Anybody try to snatch can call me the Eraser
Fuck with me you will be non existent
My pistols barely whistle like the ones on my pendant
blast off like I’m NASA – Houston we have a problem
If I meet a man on the moon – I’m a rob him
When I’m mobbin’, got your hardest dude playin possum
Ain’t a Nigga with my attitude since Straight outta Compton

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1 Comment

Filed under Art, beeboy, Comics, Entertainment, logos, music

One response to “Thug-O-Nomics – song

  1. Pingback: Sound Off All-Stars | Ungowa Soul Power

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