Apathy,Celph Titled — Stop What Ya Doin’

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Good evening, I wanna take this time to introduce Apathy… featuring Celph Titled.
We’re gonna get rough, rugged and raw for a minute. Oh, who me? I go by the name of DJ Premier.
So I guess we should do what we do, when we do what we do, aight?

Alright, stop what ya doin’, ’cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to
‘Cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to

I got an appetite for destruction, Ap is back
Murder beats, get hoes, there’s an app for that
Grab the battle axe, jacked X-Clan’s pink Cadillac
I’m a Garbage Pail Kid doing the Cabbage Patch
Play chief, get shot with a stray arrow
You suckers imitate more rappers than Jay Pharoah
Rockin’ gay apparel, them jeans’ll make you sterile
I’m steady stockin’ the ammo and cockin’ the double barrel
Rock a show hard as an army of Viking warriors
Stormin’ your little village then pillage ’til we victorious
Stories of us painted on the walls of caves
An image of your bitch suckin’ on my balls for days
I’m like Genghis Khan on the back of a horse
Or Billy Joel with a bottle of Jack on the dash of the Porsche
Blast with the force of Soviet Rockets in cold wars
You’re on tour baggin’ whores with cold sores
Do the wisdom, fuck bitches to the rhythm
I’m hard as nuclear fission, a student of pugilism
Which means Ap’ll knock your motherfuckin’ head off
I’m logical like Spock, drink vodka like Chekov

Alright, stop what ya doin’, ’cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to
‘Cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to

Pirate mentality, teeth holdin’ a knife in place
Meet me on a rap tour and a raptor might bite your face
And what would happen is you’ll get shipped out in packages
Thank God I keep the meat tenderizer in my cabinet
But truthfully, my vision varies
I go from a visionary to a vicious leader of killer militaries
Usin’ old machine guns, why I need better gats?
These’ll still burn holes in motherfuckers like a treasure map
Think that Celph’s soft, and I’mma just stare at y’all
‘Cause I’m Cyclops, and yes the sunglasses are off
So get a bulletproof armor suit and chin guard
Army surplus galore, I’m throwin’ more than ten darts
My prestige is presidential
I’m prevalent when you pressin’ the pressure, preppy, I’m preppin’ my pistol
I’ll cast a pyramid hex that leave you dickheads covered in blood like period sex

Alright, stop what ya doin’, ’cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to
‘Cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to

I break through all barriers trust Ap’ll bury ya
Nowadays rappers sound like cartoon characters
Raps I write cover an area where paragraphs are larger than aircraft carriers

Swearin’ yeah my middle finger express my hand gesture
You a she-man dressed in a dress like Fran Drescher
Cro-Magnon with a crowbar, I might eat you
Pro with a Magnum, keep you in check like Nike sneakers

I’m white as wife beaters on white trash on cop shows
Sellin’ stolen Picassos in front of Costco’s
This is the Demigodz gospel
Unholy and hostile, acidic apocalyptic apostles

Pop those snot-nosed thugs who act
Mail-order a gun and they afraid to pop the bubble wrap
My gun powder’s dusting ’em, my guns and them is troublesome
My Glock alone is like a foster home ’cause I be sonnin’ ’em

Alright, stop what ya doin’, cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to
‘Cause I’m about to ruin
The image and the style that you’re used to