Coming up as a snotty nosed brat, I was
Just that, man: a snotty nosed brat, I was
Loud mouthed, man, stayed getting smacked
There's a reason that my lips to this day stay fat, now
Nowadays I'd hardly complain
Since I hardly hear complaints from all the dames
I should probably thank my mom for all the pain
I mean, I might, though
She's largely to blame
Not blame, per se
But nahmean?
Man, you know what she'd probably say?
"Boy, don't thank me. 'Cuz you ain't changed
You talk just as much today as when you first came
You came out my womb gums beating away
Greg, that's all you did was talk all day
All day, Greg
Believe me when I say this: the English language?
Praise God that you gained it
'Cuz all the baby talk, the cute squeals and squawks
All stopped being cute before you learned to walk
Child, please
I'm just being honest
And when it comes to talking, you ain't never been modest
And not that you needed to be
I just wish you would listen more easily
Then again, it makes sense: you rapping or whatever
Still running your mouth, except your vocab's better
Coming up as a snotty nosed brat, I was
Just that, man: a snotty nosed brat, I was
Loud mouthed, man, stayed getting smacked
There's a reason I excel at this thing named rap, but
Back in the days when rap became the rage
I was being raised in the Baptist way
Or rather in the Baptist way, doubled down with doctrine of the Daggett way
But my dad is a reverend and chaplain
So that meant marching in the lane that he felt God laid
Anyway, I'll make it plain:
According to Dad's way, rap isn't the way we should praise His name
His, meaning Yahweh
And Yahweh is God's name
And everything we did was to praise God's name
But see, Dad sang, and thought I should do the same
Either that, or do my thing and let the trumpet ring
Yeah, I'm classically trained, jazz masterfully trained
Now I casually play
Add that to the fact that my swag and ways are
Similar to Dad's and you've got mad strain
'Cuz I didn't want to sing, or preach, or play
And didn't think that everything should praise God's name
So we clashed and collided and still do today
The spats that we wage helped me fill this page
It's the perfect profession
Microphone blessing
I MC, no need to second guess it
Yes, it's me: Savant of RAREBREED
Doc T on the beat and it sounds so sweet
It's the perfect profession
Microphone blessing
I MC, no need to second guess it
Yes, it's me: Savant of RAREBREED
Doc T on the beat
It's perfection to me
Savant of Rarebreed - Perfect Profession Lyrics
Savant of Rarebreed - Perfect Profession Lyrics
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Coming up as a snotty nosed brat, I was
Just that, man: a snotty nosed brat, I was
Loud mouthed, man, stayed getting smacked
There's a reason that my lips to this day stay fat, now
Nowadays I'd hardly complain
Since I hardly hear complaints from all the dames
I should probably thank my mom for all the pain
I mean, I might, though
She's largely to blame
Not blame, per se
But nahmean?
Man, you know what she'd probably say?
"Boy, don't thank me. 'Cuz you ain't changed
You talk just as much today as when you first came
You came out my womb gums beating away
Greg, that's all you did was talk all day
All day, Greg
Believe me when I say this: the English language?
Praise God that you gained it
'Cuz all the baby talk, the cute squeals and squawks
All stopped being cute before you learned to walk
Child, please
I'm just being honest
And when it comes to talking, you ain't never been modest
And not that you needed to be
I just wish you would listen more easily
Then again, it makes sense: you rapping or whatever
Still running your mouth, except your vocab's better
Coming up as a snotty nosed brat, I was
Just that, man: a snotty nosed brat, I was
Loud mouthed, man, stayed getting smacked
There's a reason I excel at this thing named rap, but
Back in the days when rap became the rage
I was being raised in the Baptist way
Or rather in the Baptist way, doubled down with doctrine of the Daggett way
But my dad is a reverend and chaplain
So that meant marching in the lane that he felt God laid
Anyway, I'll make it plain:
According to Dad's way, rap isn't the way we should praise His name
His, meaning Yahweh
And Yahweh is God's name
And everything we did was to praise God's name
But see, Dad sang, and thought I should do the same
Either that, or do my thing and let the trumpet ring
Yeah, I'm classically trained, jazz masterfully trained
Now I casually play
Add that to the fact that my swag and ways are
Similar to Dad's and you've got mad strain
'Cuz I didn't want to sing, or preach, or play
And didn't think that everything should praise God's name
So we clashed and collided and still do today
The spats that we wage helped me fill this page
It's the perfect profession
Microphone blessing
I MC, no need to second guess it
Yes, it's me: Savant of RAREBREED
Doc T on the beat and it sounds so sweet
It's the perfect profession
Microphone blessing
I MC, no need to second guess it
Yes, it's me: Savant of RAREBREED
Doc T on the beat
It's perfection to me
Just that, man: a snotty nosed brat, I was
Loud mouthed, man, stayed getting smacked
There's a reason that my lips to this day stay fat, now
Nowadays I'd hardly complain
Since I hardly hear complaints from all the dames
I should probably thank my mom for all the pain
I mean, I might, though
She's largely to blame
Not blame, per se
But nahmean?
Man, you know what she'd probably say?
"Boy, don't thank me. 'Cuz you ain't changed
You talk just as much today as when you first came
You came out my womb gums beating away
Greg, that's all you did was talk all day
All day, Greg
Believe me when I say this: the English language?
Praise God that you gained it
'Cuz all the baby talk, the cute squeals and squawks
All stopped being cute before you learned to walk
Child, please
I'm just being honest
And when it comes to talking, you ain't never been modest
And not that you needed to be
I just wish you would listen more easily
Then again, it makes sense: you rapping or whatever
Still running your mouth, except your vocab's better
Coming up as a snotty nosed brat, I was
Just that, man: a snotty nosed brat, I was
Loud mouthed, man, stayed getting smacked
There's a reason I excel at this thing named rap, but
Back in the days when rap became the rage
I was being raised in the Baptist way
Or rather in the Baptist way, doubled down with doctrine of the Daggett way
But my dad is a reverend and chaplain
So that meant marching in the lane that he felt God laid
Anyway, I'll make it plain:
According to Dad's way, rap isn't the way we should praise His name
His, meaning Yahweh
And Yahweh is God's name
And everything we did was to praise God's name
But see, Dad sang, and thought I should do the same
Either that, or do my thing and let the trumpet ring
Yeah, I'm classically trained, jazz masterfully trained
Now I casually play
Add that to the fact that my swag and ways are
Similar to Dad's and you've got mad strain
'Cuz I didn't want to sing, or preach, or play
And didn't think that everything should praise God's name
So we clashed and collided and still do today
The spats that we wage helped me fill this page
It's the perfect profession
Microphone blessing
I MC, no need to second guess it
Yes, it's me: Savant of RAREBREED
Doc T on the beat and it sounds so sweet
It's the perfect profession
Microphone blessing
I MC, no need to second guess it
Yes, it's me: Savant of RAREBREED
Doc T on the beat
It's perfection to me
Writer: Gregory Daggett
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid