Early Mornin' Tony

[Slug]
 Seven in the morning police at my door
 But I spent last night on someone else's floor
 Out the back window didn't know where I was
 I was still kinda buzzed with a head full of drugs
 [Murs]
 Lookin' at my Nixon it's about that time
 To go and save the world from the daily grind
 Speakin' of which, I gotta hit the OC
 For a quick sess through my skate park OG's
 Oh please, this is still mere city
 Wanna check my street cred go ahead come get me
 On the block like mopeds or the threads on your Dickies
 And I wrote code red off the hair so swiftly
 Stole the scribbles show
 Man had the feds go get me
 Still got head from your thoroughbred
 No hickies, oh really?
 Throw a veil on your Philly
 Took pictures of a crack like that bell out in Philly
 Had to kick out my tail cause she smelled like Billy
 Smoking blunts with the breath, so stale it could've killed me
 Silly quick-witted when I spit the shit get it
 I mean sit kitted, I mean, aw shit
 It's amazing I remember all the different shit I'm into
 I try to stay focused on getting legal tender
 Gotta stay on the grind cause if the legends get signed
 Gotta spit back dope between 8 7 6 5
 [Slug]
 4 and 3 and 2 and 1
 And when I'm on the mic, the women come
 Down with A-N-T Murs and you're not
 And I got more rhymes than California got cops
 [Murs]
 Nine in the mornin' police at my door
 Tryin' to wonder what the fuck they want to talk to me for
 She said she wanted money for some fundraiser shit
 I slammed the door in her face and said "Fuck you bitch!"
 [Slug]
 Looking at my Nixon it's about that time
 For me to light another cigarette and settle my mind
 Foot soldier, been waiting for the took over
 Probably won't be getting naked, if she looks sober
 I'm a primate with pimp-like mind state
 Raising the curb to make contemporaries irate
 Still obsessed with your breasts and your fishnet
 Beating on my thin chest screaming out "Mid-West!"
 My nature is to make you a believer
 On your stereo receiver or your barely legal beaver
 Buzzin' overhead spittin' fly game
 Nowadays cats be getting paid and laid up off of my name
 Wait a minute, take a number
 Made a visit to your village with this fresh baked biscuit
 And stayed consistent
 Breaking in the heads ain't as difficult
 When half of them are trippin' over how they missed the boat
 The key is control but your flow is contrived
 Keep it in my soul take it with when I die
 Plug that mic in and let heaven get live
 Turn a groupie into an angel when she 8 7 6 5
 [Murs]
 4 and 3 and 2 and 1
 And when I'm on the mic all your home girls come
 Down with A-N-T Slug and you're not
 And I got more rhymes than rappers who got shot