Frontin’ Ass Ducks

Godfather Don - “Frontin’ Ass Ducks”
[Emcee(s): Godfather Don]
[Producer(s): Godfather Don]

[Verse 1: Godfather Don]
Benign minds that rhyme can’t fuck with the clandestine
Hand-to-mind, my line taps a nine like a cat o’ nine
Mutilating cadavers and digits. Spit it out
From my trachea, makes me an alche... my
Chemicals attack livers of niggas that rap with a
TEC-9. I’ll wreck rhymes and smack local rap figures
Pitter-patter, my sickle splatter your little matter
Corrosed and mummified, encased in the brittle batter
But, suckers, I’ll run up your tookus, so talk shit
I’ll walk with ligaments that’s caustic ‘cause I lost it
Forced it, the heavenly follows ‘til my tomorrow
So I don’t see you. I see terror, medical horror
I trigger rigor mortis, meticulous when I’m kicking
This habitual, virtual body of carnival rituals
I’m hurting you, innards and stomped gut get hacked on
Contents coagulated, I managed to rap
Long, beyond the door lies more guys to trample
A flesh-eater fetus with more eyes to sample
Implements of pain, hang in my morgue with ran-
-cid meat, sheets that reeks of, like, dog shit
Bags of body is exhumed, entombed, then I bury them
Smitten, shitting, walking ‘round my sanitarium
Go run, tell. Son, Hell is better ta
Avoiding ill niggas polishing skulls like The Predator, yeah

[Verse 2: Godfather Don]
My technique’ll wreck sheets from Palestine to clan-
-destine, I’ll plant a mine to destroy rhymes that can’t align
I’ll stomp ghosts and play high-post upon your steeple
My eye cries red as I reveal ill-type evil
I peeped, through flesh, the spools of fools in my bar space
So get blown the fuck away like Monty did in Scarface
A bizarre race that Allah chased. Give me my pa’s
Face. I’m taking revenge on niggas that pa hates
The mortician creating incisions with wit precision
You’re wishing and then you are chilling with hella Christians
I list ten men that deserve to get blasted
And do work as I smirk, their skins are gently plastered
On these hollow halls, balls and smashed, drained, and simmered
Dinner the pitfalls that could fall on niggas’ innards
I am so depressed that I let
Off rounds at cops in broad daylight without a vest, just
Testing and you’re destined to rest less
Than zero. I’m a nigga that loves to blast, I’m the ant-hero

[Verse 3: Godfather Don]
Ozone
Depletions. Zones increase? Then take the ville gases
That make me break out, like, laugh like your masses
As for your pastor, he’s past a spot of humor
He can’t mess with a spirit that snap necks with Moctezuma
Design exhumer, sucking souls to leave a carcass
Crustified remains of brains reduced to porridge
Polysaccharide from the crack of mind starts to
Dilapitize my insides, I desecrate where rappers die
My eyes glisten, wishing my girl would listen
I’m disincarnate, devoid of life, and now my mission is
To imprison, design benevolence to crucifixion
Spittle typhus, infect my enemies through use of diction
Rancid, run sticks plus clips and snub tips and tons
Of NoDoz. To keep my past up, I blast my photos
Heron, barbiturates sit on my dresser, they’re wre-
-cking me to run to water, succumb to pressure
Nevertheless, I’ll progress the shit that bust your earlobe
I’ll walk a thin line between a murderer and hero, yeah