Contact high

I'm not Tupac and I'm not Biggie
Not Slim Shady, and no not Fitty (50)
Not Rakim, Nas, Jay-Z, Busta
Or a New-Jack Hustla but I'll STILL dust ya (x2)
I'm Jadox, five nine and three quarters
A beanie-sportin' true underground beat supporter
Keepin sorta...a low-profile--shorter
A street reporter keepin all of my speeches in order
Breachin the dysfunctional border, I enter
Buildin' with cats from L.A. to Loma Linda
The founding member...Of the Board of Directors
Plus I got connections from Cali to Texas
You know I Strive 4 Perfection like my EP CD
Ea-sy distributed freely
At least, for the most part...
All of my Big Girlz they wanna know:
"When the show start?"
But see, where I come from
Life is one big low-income conundrum
On a constant paper chase
Well, for that and abstract tracks
With the phat bass
Noun lyric goes to waste when I'm in the place
In ya face when you hear my words interlaced
With the beat...never incomplete when I'm on a streak
Only time I halt and screech is if my celly beep:
It could be Mytress or Elyse
That's wifey and seed
An emergency with them, well then I leave (gotta go)
If not, then with my rhymin' I proceed
Breathin' in the second-hand smoke
From y'all's weed...