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Reks

Corey Isiah Christie (born August 24, 1977), better known as Reks, is an American rapper. Reks emerged from Lawrence, Massachusetts' underground rap scene. His debut album Along Came The Chosen was released in 2001 released under Brick Records. Reks has released four additional albums and has appeared on numerous other albums and mixtapes. He is closely associated with Statik Selektah who has produced on every album he has released. more »

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Niggas know what I'm affiliated with
I'm quick to bust a move
And bust yo' windows for this paper bitch
Niggas get on off gimmicks
They don't wanna get into no gangsta shit
Fryin' yo' ass in front of yo' family 
Yo that's my favorite
Shit to do to niggas
Read you runnin' through these niggas
Like a pack of condoms
Sick just like I passed the flu to niggas
I was diplomatic
But this shit was gettin' through to niggas
Way these faggots be actin'
Make me just wanna shoot at niggas
Go back to my roots on niggas
A S.K. and a (?)
Leave your crib one day without choppers, you gon' be dead, dog
Burn some niggas off and then paid the cost over bread, dog
Busta came in asked for some credit
But I'm like, "Hell nah"
If I was Jimmy Henchman
I would have been left the country
F*ck the snitches and pussy polices, them niggas monkeys
Ten pounds of kush and a set of speakers
That shit was funky
I just needed drugs
I'm a plug wrappin' this shit before me

Spazzmatic cabbage cranium classic
Deliver bastard bars
Freddie and Statik
Pushin' the pad
Pinnacle General as if
I be asthmatic, he fill syllables
In lyrical paragraphs
My scribbling battle raps or story verses
They gon' need hearses
Undertaker, Mother Nature
You be one with makers
Son to say your passion
Jesus, sip Grey Goose
Henny and reminisce, R-E-K-S Genesis
The revolution's evolution
'Til revelation, you made your bed with Satan
Game is full of hella hatin'
I'm bakin' a book of statements for real emcees's
To kill the likes of little B's
Enemies turn to mini me's
Lord of Gary
R and Freddie killin' beats
Pinnacle of (?)
To the (?)
Martin, Langston and Don Goines
I'm omens to all men
Poker table all in
Get to know the label
Y'all showin' off, we the spokesmen

Lights, camera, action
It's the main attraction
Nothin' like the rest of these faggots
The bullshit on the radio, heard by masses
I'm MJ with a team full of Kerrs and Paxsons
Squad of shooters, with black rugers
Baby mama wallin', true to the stash looters
You can ask around, know Push keep it the truest
You're looking at the American version of (?)
Or (?) 
Nigga f*ck it I do this
Need to come holler at your boy and get some tutelage
Might see me with thirty grand in front of hipsters
But I'm knee deep in the street
Don't get me mixed up
I'm dirty, it's best to be cool fam
Shit, I'm Tim Taylor with the tool, man
Play Wilson, I peek over the gate
Soon as I see your brows I'm squeezin' in your face

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer