Check it out now
I work the angles like, off the cushion in the sidepocket
Electrifying like a live socket
Hit em with all flavors, yup
We tryin to be neighbords with pro-ballplayers, Im talkin papers
Or keep it realer, and see me on a iron caterpillar
On point like a killer, plus ready, to deliver
Type gifted, treat the mic right, or I might rip it
Critics dig my style cause I write different, no hype
I just kick it, low-lifes, they wanna get it
I shine like the ice when I hold mics, everytime
Got every dime, sayin this nigga so nice, you know what?
They so right, you get stuck, Ill go twice
Lit it up when I blow mics

Show mic precise, require sacrifice
Thats no hassle, the master got more loops than lassos
Yall hear me? they all conspiracy theories
Worthless, like testing ev defeats the purpose
Since the beginning, intrigued by pot and attentive women
Breakbeats and windmills on concrete
Covered by cardboard, seafloor to skyline
Bottom line, in rhyme yo, put in time you shine
Thats right sometimes I get so hyped
I feel like diamond d the best producer on the mic
I aced this -- most punchlines are tasteless
Regular, average, mediocre, makeshift
To all my djs, with skills you got a lotta
This aint on your mixtape, yo it coulda been hotta
The method in this game theyll have you drained and strangles
Dont go to them, let em come to you, and work the angles

Dont sleep on, I leave your knee torn, like sehorn
Liquid mc storm, like children of the corn, a wild freeform
Of energy, mentally fit to last a century
Like centuries, one double-zero translate to victories
You kiddin me me? come wack thats not my history
Kidnap the wack and break his ankles, remember +misery+?
Lyrically youre skatin out of control
Work the angles round the globe, from newark to south pole
Its so cold that mcs catch pneumonia
Im airborne, from l.a. to barcelona
I rock heads from pomona out the bronx
Drop the sure needle contact, now watch me launch
Djs, you jugglin, that means Im bubblin
Defari on the remix fix, this shit is thunderin
Picture me fumblin or droppin the ball
Thats like picturin guy without that nigga aaron hall

Well if a brother gets the best of me
Aint no use in sniveling and blaming the referee
Fuck that, I strip the mic with tenacous d
Kick it up to evidence, yo kick it out to me!
Line up the three, trifecta stroked properly
Rocca, I work the angles triple opticly
The hip-hop multi-beat real monopoly
My g is god, whats your g for, geometry?
This man of war beats cold on the seashore
An deeo enough to take it to the sea floor
Every single beat bangs like a c-4
We drop beats, why you asking what the beat for?
The spitfire fighter dilated entity
Im learning shockers like shockra building energy
While barbershops sipping henny like the kennedys
Im always been independent, thats word to beni b
Its guaranteed

Make t-shirts and slingshots, I bust khakis out, bounce to the weed spot
Naturally, me and my faculty never play with this
I used to love h.e.r. too, but now I fucking hate the bitch
Shes sucking up to all the niggas with the chains and whips
But thats alright, because all she do for me is pay the rent
And keep it moving, got a bad habit of losing my cool
Acting a fool, breaking out tools, and making the whole corwd move
Towards the exit, this be the next shit, we got you dilated
Hotter than satan, the repeated parole violations
Xzibit work the angles, cordless to dirty angels
How the west was won: with microphones and turntables

Lyrics submitted by fieroavian

Rework the Angles song meanings
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