The Curse

Charon Don, Reef the Lost Cauze, Sicknature, Snowgoons, King Magnetic

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Reef the Lost Cauze

Sharif T. Lacey (born December 30, 1981), better known by his stage name Reef the Lost Cauze, is an underground hip hop artist based in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Cauze became well known on the underground circuit towards the late 1990s and more so in the early 2000s, making his mark by winning many battle competitions within New York and interstate and displaying rare skills of what many called true MCing. Releasing The High Life album in 2001, Cauze moved on by teaming up with his past partners and friends and released The Invisible Empire in 2003 to much critical acclaim and thus establishing his name amongst many circles and true hip hop heads, as well as the underground. Feast or Famine was released in 2005 again to positive critical reception, as well … more »

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We're back motherfucker!
Black Snow! Snowgoons! What up Reef!
AOTP! JuJu Mob! Charon Don! (Woh) Sicknature!
I go by the name King Magnetic!
(dot dot dot) BRAT!
Wanna die over some music?!
You could be the next tupac nigga!
F*ck your life! brrrrraaat!
Yeah! Mhm, ya already know
Yeah, it's goin' down
You got the Mob in the place, yeah

The say the mind is a terrible thing to waste
So my every rhyme is designed
From a spiritual place get the time
I'm some kind of a lyrical great
I drink wine from the
Vines of superior grapes
How you think I carry the weight?
They got me very irate i make a classic
It's a habit how I bury these fakes
You can't compare me to
Snakes? I never bite, i never crawl
On the mic I'm somethin'
That you never saw, this is raw
Y'all can't be serious? These
Jams is hilarious
I leave you bloody like the first
Man to have a period
Period, I ain't gotta write no more
But since the beat kinda nice
I'mma write some more
Fight your war for what? Lil cash
Lil checks? So when I die you can put
A lil flag on my chest?
You a fag with a rep
I got shotties for your men
If Obama don't get the spot
It's probably not for him
Enough black men do good to only get shot
That's why I'm good in the hood
I don't need to get the props
I only need to get these
Thoughts off my brain chopped in and slain
Let JuJu Mob in the game!

Write another verse and send another curse

Here comes the storm, get your talking on
Back from the dead like motherfuckers
Been reading the Necronomicon
When the sick person is talking
I murder the market i'm a monster
Kids trying to see me searching their closets
If incompetent knuckleheads are
Being slumberers i'm sick
I kick in the fucking door and
Slap 'em out of pajamases
Y'all fakers believe that I've
Been racing the cheetahs
My face is the thesis to standing
Tall in my laces Adidas
From unlucky to fuckin' up, now sucka
Buckle up i'm sick motherfucka
Plague wouldn't touch me with rubber gloves
Half-steppers stay beneath me
The rap shit'll never leave me
I bring thunder like Thor swingin'
His hammer to AC dC
F*ck you if you think this shit is improper
While online rappers be pushin'
Keys thinkin' they're hustlers
I'll show and prove, never do it for paper
Leave the cake you want tooth with your maker
Or move for Snowgoons and The Nature

Yeah - Uh oh!
Reef the Lost Cauze, guess who? Uh oooh!

The Mob remains, we was just in the shadows
King of kings, Kamachi and Cauze
Brother of pharaohs
Cousins of killers, fathers of felons
Don't no light no weed around us
We'll abolish your section
You got juice? You will get bashed to a pulp
Real talk, years since the status was caught
Hundred and eighty-seven songs
That ain't half of my vault hell froze
Paved my way out on a path made of salt
Me and 'Mach made of fire
Ain't no passin' the torch
You pass, I'll be passin' the pork
I'll splatter your thoughts
West Philly where I rep
Where my passage was taught
Wildin' up the block while grandaddy
Sat on the porch
Watchin' the news with his back to the room
I grew up with kids who swam
With crack in the womb
Now they're sellin' the same shit
Pops died on the same strip
Shower your rhymes
Powerful as the gauge kick
Or with a tangled web
I leave you maimed and dead
Without a microphone I make you
Fuckin' bang your head
My anger's fed when I get
Some heat from Waxwork the gat burst
Would have been a hitman just
Learned to rap first
Used to be a fat jerk, now I'm a skinny one
One man, one gun, I go to war with anyone
You f*ck with JuJu Mob? That's asinine
We don't have to rhyme, nigga
We'll settle this by blasting nines

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Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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