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S​.​A​.​R​.​S [The Best of Adam Bomb]

by The Legend Adam Bomb

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I'm the sickest in the T.O and we know the town's ill, Cuz if the SARS don't get you, Mosquitos and Cows will. My ego is now filled but my wallet's starvin', Just ditched a bill in Richmond Hill at the Olive Garden. I - try to keep private but to y'all I'm Sargent, Sometimes I feel like a giant in a small apartment. I've been beaten before but I don't die that easy, Besides, I'm mentioned more than the guy that beat me - Ha. Y'all look surprised to see me, Poltergeist, stuff your girl's head inside the TV - Ha. Nevermind getting signed, believe me, Better find some better lines instead of trying to be E. M. P. I - don't fuck around, Suicide at 9 and I don't mind if I go up or down. In the sky above the ground or in the fire with a pitchfork, I'm driving into Bridgeport high enough to drown. Vile the Scum & Fiks the Bad, Stop and watch the style run like it ditched a cab. When Loudmouths hit the lab,We're leaving high, we're the reason why you got a nephew and your sister's mad. Whattup Ranks? (Yeah, whattup Bomb?), We'll clock a priest and walk the streets like nothing's wrong. You got skills?? You got it wrong, So catch me at your show with my Walkman on.
Who in the hell told you if I could do this you could do this as well? Dude this is music, I don't do this to sell. I do this to tell you amateurs not to, I would ruin what your managers got you but you do it yourselves. Want a fuckin' knuckle sandwich? I'll spot you, Want a full body cast? I'm the man you should talk to. Any other extra damage will cost you, If you need, I'll come back and beat the bandages off you. I'm used to the yells, I used the cop toques and gazelles, Rock it (Rocket) in the past like Houston's Cassell. Early use and abuse of the juice and the Ls, Had me boosting at 12, sh*t vanished like a janitors Washroom. Me & Scandalis is Canada's top 2, The Fam is just bananas your flop crew is some fruits on the shelf. I let loose and the truth is it helps, Don't let my troops in the booth if it melts or wear flammable costumes. It's hot now, listen up, Put my motherfuckin' wrists in cuffs, you can't lock us down. The lost and found is missing us, Bitch motherfuckers bit the dust, the Dot's the town. The Home of Hustlers known to clutch the chrome, Come get your dome blown to clusters. Organ and bone adjusters, Stoned enough to, Have your corpse thrown in foam and flown to Russia. Foes don't roam alone I'll bust your nugget, Then put it on a Mike (mic) like I'm Buster Douglas. What the fuck is the reason to worry? Beef is just a dead man walking like Weekend at Bernie's. Don't leave on a journey you might not ever come back from,  Thugs get your life stopped dead in its tracks, son. Blood left your White Sox (Socks) Red when the bat swung, Legends of rap run in and fed you a snack, umm.. I think I'm getting sicker with age, So when I'm 30 I'll be dirtier than strippers with AIDS. Live for the stage, die for the cause,  Rhyme for the squads lifting the gauge cuz nowadays who abides by the laws? Not I, not him, we got by off sin, So I advise you not drive if your ride's got rims. Got five options and four of them is duck, You're only touring to your truck and your sidewalks thin. Sure the prize got your eyes locked in, But them nines cockin' will turn you guys into cyclops twins. Burning dimes gets my mind off Gin, But while I'm high want to ride inside a pine box? Fine, hop in. it's no surprise I'll get signed off spins, Someone tell these fools drooling on my dick, when they climb off swim. There's no room for you on, pop 'Shrooms from the lawn, My crew do it, (eventhough what we do is wrong). My Empire bet all contenders, Team so deep I ain't met all the members. Send y'all to vendors for product to cop, it's hotter than hot, buyers gonna sweat all December. Dead all pretenders, fakes get their cards drawn, Faced with a case had the Jake's with a hard on. Made some mistakes but it's safe cause my heart's gone, Space been replaced with some grapes and a car bomb. Wait till the SARS on volume 50, I'll do 800 Bars, send a call to Ripleys. And if y'all are with me I'll spit as long as the verse takes, If not, you couldnt fuck with bomb in the first place.
It's Mr. A just the name y'all here for, Huh? This the day kids been waiting all year for, Huh? You're welcome, I felt I been gone for too long, But I'm back and I'm better than ever.. We out-of-control, way out of your league, Wake you out of your sleep, beat you out of your robe. See you out on the road, shake you out of your seat, Take you out of your jeep, leave you out in the cold. We out for the gold, name spread out in a week, TRA went out in the street, 300,000 were sold. Now we out for the globe, A's just out for a freak, Making out with your niece, easing her out of her clothes. Beavers out and exposed, she's eating out other hoes, Don't need her, coke keep her bleeding out of her nose. She's out at the shows screaming out at the flows, Even now that she knows we had her drowning in loads. Cleaning counters and stoves, gleaming showers and bowls, She spends hours alone sweeping our houses and homes, Homes. That's how it just goes, peep the 'Wows' and the 'Whoas', Peep the crowns and the thrones, peeps should bow at our toes. Teach the town who's the pros, geeks and cowards should roll Deep around us and don't speak without being told. And take some hints, Cuz We're loading up 30, and we're going to Jersey, to put eight in Vince. That leaves 10 for you, 12 for anyone else, Tell your friends and your spouse, Heaven was made for wimps. Hell Adam might as well be Satan since, He's been the baddest since the planet dwelled with apes and chimps. Help him? Take a glimpse, he ain't able to cure, The guy's higher than Chamberlain's score on Rate the Pimps. You fucking nerds oughta get cut and served, Hundred bar ghost writer charge you a buck a word. Start moving up the Herb Chart, you'll be stuck in third, Cuz %#!*}@ got the top 2 pretty much secured. Divvy up the erb, everything quarters dimes, Anything yours is mine, get your truck insured. Get your numbers blocked, name switched, address changed, Same wrist, half the veins, guess I just struck a nerve. Sensitive schmucks get burned, fags get triple that, Catch 4 like playing tag with Nickelback. I ain't a Diplomat but I know Killers and Writers, That will make you take a nap without feeling the 'Itis. You ain't real in the slightest, I'm willing to slide this Knife up in your spine make you shine my Pulitzer prizes. While I chill in disguises trying to dodge your whore, But throw in seven of her friends and I'm Roger Moore. That's in Octopussy which is lots of pussy, Well for you, not for me, I get lots of pussy. And I'll box a pussy, if he has even the gall or the thought to push me, Skull will be soft and mushy. Call up cops to book me, follow their plots to whoop me, Shots at the judge says they're all out of spots to put me. Swallow and toss your cookies trying to screw with my cream, See I ain't new with the green, ballers are Boston rookies. We're sicker than most, chicks get dick in their throats, Drugs get high in demand, bricks get shipped from the coast. Slugs will fly at your fam, clicks equipped with the toast, So quit with the jokes, son, cuz I ain't your man. Empire's the clan, name is legend enough, Can't keep the ruler down, they ain't measuring up. The temperature touch 90 when I'm in town Find me if I'm around, remind me again that you suck .. (what!)
Slow thinker, Monday morning 2-4 drinker, Plastered off of Keith's, which bastard want a piece? Heard your tape, sure you're great, bet you run Toronto, You and 30,000 other rappers on the streets No talent, broke down and sell a bag of units, All trash But you're gassed, what the hell you faggots doing? Backpackers fast track cuz y'all pray for yesterday, Call your label 'SSA', you're Ass backwards, Save your breath and your cold ugly stares, This is hip-hop in Canada, nobody cares. I'm just here to buy a beer and grab a couple groupies, Shoot me if you're bad enough to shoot me. M*therf*cker I - been around simmer down Beef is overcooked, When it comes to get a dumb I'm with the team that wrote the book. So eventhough it took me my queen and both the rooks, If the King's still standing there's a piece you overlooked. Tell Me, who murders mics? Legend. Who earned his stripes? Legend. Everybody gets shows but who's worth the price? Legend. You heard it right, Legend. I ain't gonna say no more, I ain't gonna play no more, who burns it like Legend? Who keeps the bar live and drinks til the bar's dry? Whose got your names on a page in my archives? Test my heart size, I ain't gonna play no more, I ain't gonna say no more, see you fuckers SARS 5.
You better learn my name and know my face as ugly as it is, I put dummies out of biz just for old time sakes. Fuck Cribs I don't show my place, Wanna know how I live? Ask your bitch, she'll be home by 8. My ribs still touching, my head's still hurting, If my heart and my legs still working, it's for certain. I'm a stay a step ahead til the day I'm left for dead, My tape kept Play De Record fed. A collecting bread like a kitchen crew, bread like the prison food, It ain't all butter, I need bread like a pigeon do. I can see the Fed and the Snitch in you, the lesbian bitch in you, With Fed-Ex, your head'll be in Richellieu. Check me and picture you, see where the difference lies. You into pimpin' rides? I'm into pimpin' brides. While I'm banging them, you hang with them and sympathize, I shove it til it strangles 'em and love it when the infant dies. I wise man's plan is to improvise but since you guys have simple minds, How are you gonna be what the hood hear? You don't leave your hood here. You won't see a Good Year unless a fuckin' blimp arrives. So where you been besides Facebook and YouTube? My crew move units in the streets, You new dudes were cool for a week like Rude Jude. You've ruined my mood and a beat more than once, I pour a bunch, drink a lil then record a bunch, drink a lil more score some blunts, ink a deal all before I order lunch. It's fun like warning punks to Run like Forest Gumps, If you don't, shit I hope your sons like storage trunks. I give a fuck who your men are, I'm legend whether on stage or hanging in the crib like Benoit. It's M-R Period. Capitol A. The number 1 straight spitter since back in the day.
Apparently there ain't a place you can find, That can sincerely guarantee a bigger waste of your time. Home of the lost and the disappointed teams, Who would've been better off just avoiding dreams. Where no one tries cuz no one buys, And no one signs no one so no one rise, Where no one guy stands out in no one's eyes, it's no wonder no one shines. - (Canada sucks). Where the city go "drop a next tune, So we can watch the video dropping next June". Where rock's your best move to rake cash in, Where rappers pay has-beens collabing with Das Efx soon. We're doomed, and everyone's planning to bust, But when our only icon is a man in a tux. Where the fuck's all the Lams and the Phantoms and trucks? All I see is one fan and some sluts.. Canada Sucks. They say 'Legend get your business right', I know Juno nominees getting evicted from their cribs tonight. And I don't mind to rock an old plain white Tee, but why the fuck is Sauks on the GO Train like me? And how come K-oS couldn't roll in the jam, And had to ask the bouncers 'do you know who I am?' When Belly sells like Ron Artest, only fewer, Yogi Stewart ain't the biggest waste of dough on a man. Damn, Dan-e-o's a wrestler now? I guess the Pizza Pocket cheques got to stretch somehow. Cuz Frankie Ano owns a gym and Thrust teach class, But Crumple's still unemployed plus he's trash. So how's he possibly gonna stack his bread? If we're all struggling then that kid's dead. We got skills, we just got to get rappers fed, So I'm the last one that laughed and said Canada Sucks. Now let me tell you about some rappers that I actually know, Hate my guts but want to give dap to me though. This little industry puppet named....
I better get rich, Cuz right now even getting out of bed is a bitch. My lifestyle needs a definite switch, My mind's out of ideas, my head's scratched til it's red and it itch. There's so much Pain in my life, my eyes won't let me chill, They've seen enough shit to get me killed. My ears are so sore they can't even hear no more, Cuz FLOW gets paid to play what you queers vote for. It's clear no war's going to stop an attack so why bother Iraq? My neck's stiff from just watching my back. And my shoulder's dislodged cuz it packs the weight of the world, Plus I got a chip on it no doctor can patch. There's so much pain in my life, I'm sick to my stomach, Just thinking of the shit that I've done with the bitches I run with. It feels like I get to the summit as quick as I plummet, So I can stick another chick, my dick's infected with something. And all this pain in my life, is never worth the thrills, My legs hurt from running from the creditors and bills. My knees hurt from praying to the heavens for some pills I can swallow to send all of my problems heading for the hills. So much pain in my life, it's no wonder I have the, Breath control of an old mother with asthma. I smoke more than I think, drink more than I blink, My liver's like 'Stop, there's not much more I can shrink, you bastard'. After I fixed all the above, This chick asked 'Don't your heart feel like falling in love?' I said 'Remember when I broke my foot in your ass? Well I need that shit back to get it put in a cast'. There's so much pain in my life, and I don't even got it that hard, My man Jay's in and out of the yard. Straight out of Queens, hustling, saving them Gs, So one day that brother's pain is at ease. Tell 'em Jay..
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yo let's be, Serious, I hear you kids is pop like pepsi. I'll serve a fuckin' rapper and his family like Geoffrey, Have his crippled brother yelling shit like "Gretzky!". Yo, Yo, I'm still more retarded, Dropped more hits than the Billboard has charted. You're garbage. So go keep your pen moving, And take them old ass recycled rhymes to the Blue Bin. You in - some fuckin' trouble with the E, Buck Fifty your face and I'll double it for free. You're fucking with the B-O-M to the B. Got my man on the beat, I'm that M to the C. A 40 ounce of Gin sounds tempting to me, Left your bitch with a rash and a dent on her knee. It's L-E-G-E-N to the D, And I'll be your step father eventually.. It's Thoze Guyz with that real, real, real raw shit, That real deal, that real ill Bomb shit. My heart and soul is hard and cold, My mind said 'Chill, Chill', I still lost it. Better off dead or locked, blitzed by ten o'clock A.M and playing with tits like Ed the Sock. It's a Never-Not-Ever-Gonna-Get-A-Shot-Day Everyday where I stay so I'm getting gwop. Quick to set up shop, Legend's got bills to pay, hot shit you'd kill to say, I said, forgot, and never thought was real hot anyway. Still drop 20 K to bet I lock any spot, Rock like heavy clay, talk like Freddie J, That ain't my lady though, I got my steady lay, that's just a crazy ho. And fuck the radio and models, If I die in Toronto with a 40 Ounce bottle I'm swayze yo.
If I feel the hate rasing, I'll put you in your place like a real estate agent. Blazing, guzzling 40s by the dozen and, Search parties couldn't find a shorty that I wasn't in. You must have been high, fucking with I, My name hotter than I fat nun stuck in July. I ain't got to have a platinum cup or a guy, To carry my umbrella, son, even with nothing I'm fly. This for drinkers with their middle fingers up in the sky, On their 429th month at DeVry. My gang slang whatever buckets will buy, You're a joke, the last coke you sold came with nuggets and fries. One in Five of the suckers will try and play boss, Til the other Four knuckleheads hide or take off. They're softer than fluff and the size of Kate Moss, Take shots and they'll duck to the side like Raycroft. A's lost like usual, sauced like usual, Try and make him stop I hope you cops like funerals. Find him on the block 'round the clock like numerals, Telling old has-beens the spotlight's beautiful. Soon you will acknowledge me as god in the flesh, Til then, they'll be calling me the cause of your death. So put your songs on a rest and your moms on Alesse, Cuz Bomb's on a quest to bust like bombs on a chest. And Yes, it's 5th Letter and No, you're not apart of it, You're messing with a veteran that no one wants to start it with. Retarded with the skills, if it feels like it's hard to skip, It must be that 16 Bars/Sick Artists shit.
Oh, now they say A's getting worse. Maybe so, or maybe radio could play an inspirational verse. Instead of garbage and bullshit by bullshit artists, Competing who can bullshit hardest and seeing who push the bullshit farthest. I am the truth, And Bill & Ted didn't spend this much time in the booth. My adventure ain't excellent that why I get juice and let loose, Til I inspire the troops to start firing. That's what you call rhyming? Try and produce. Shoot, that's what you call grinding? You better off trying to guard a 9 foot giant at hoops, Or tying a noose and crying goodbye, you dying, I'm dying to find an excuse to get violent, it's time for abuse. Who the fuck's signing these groups?! Unsign 'em. I'm done whining, want it with Legend? Come find him, I'm anywhere the fuckin' sunshining, drunk driving. At lunchtime and I'm a be up on your block, If I miss you, I'll hit you at double the speed at one o'clock. And initial the spot to make it official that Bomb did it, My drinking problem is yours if you can't get along with it. The non-blitted complain cuz I'm boozing again, You don't know my name? That makes two of us then. All I know is dudes in the Pen', ex-cons, boosters and men Who'll open your mind like a hallucinogen. By Two-Zero-Ten, if haters don't love me, I'll quit, I ran the show like Dougie & Rick and still ignorant and ugly as shit. Stubbornly prick, to me it's black and white, Like a half-blind Colombian chick. I'm W-ick-E-D. Some of you spit, And overlook who wrote the book you've been studying with. Heard the word how a nerd said I suddenly slipped, While he's currently on somebody's dick, plus his own. I should break his leg, bloody his lip, bust his dome, Send him on a trip to meet Owen Hart and Russell Jones. Crush his bones, have his organs and guts and muscles thrown, On his doorstep burning, where the fuck's his home? I'll MapQuest his address and fill up his porch, If he lives in an apartment, his building get torched. I'll look everywhere from shelters to Hilton resorts, Find him swimming, I'mma kill him while he's still in his shorts. Remorse isn't an emotion I'm able to claim, Trade bitches and devotion for paper and pain. You lames pay whores nightly, I'm way more likely, To dump a stripper in the ocean than making it rain. Listen, I'm from the era of grimy rap, I don't want to hear a synthesized whiny track. Fuck a 'Buy Me!' act, where the rhymes be at? For god sakes, bring Beat Junkie and Riley's back. Cuz I need that like the Leafs needed Meeker, Like Cheech needed reefer, like Screech needed Lisa. I mean I need it bad like the streets need a leader, That's why I need beats like a gina. So I can free ya. From the new-age slave masters, the corporations and the lame rappers they train to aim at us. So they can maintain the same status, And turn our grey matters from plain brainwaves to strained cabbage. You cat's is getting headstomps when I find ya, Bigger rats than restaurants on Spadina. And I'm about to fuck the hell out your step-momma's vagina, This your S-A-R-S constant reminder by the Legend.
Legend don't belong, I was light years ahead before I ever wrote a song, When all I thought about was getting head and smoking chron. Back in '97 when my rep was growing strong, I was shining off of lines like an episode of Tron, what the heck is going on? A decade and change, they'd expect to know I'm gone, but not me, imagine Ali had left to go to 'Nam. I stand out amongst the rest like I'm dressed to go to prom, Decepticon Ron Mexico up next to bone your mom. Witness the spectacle forever known as Bomb, Sure the sales weren't always right, but I never sold you wrong. My track record is impeccable, respect that goes beyond, All you gossipers and posers, watch where you stick your noses, Before you stop and sniff the roses, I suggest you mow the lawn. Who you want to rival with? No wife, no children, I'm a perfect candidate to do some homicidal shit. I don't fall and I don't slip, I don't ever break a promise, And as long as there's a drop left in a bottle, I won't quit. And when I'm on that final sip, you're gonna wish there was a refill, Cuz I could leave behind the rhymes and y'all would be missing me still. The bars is just a cheap thrill, the soul is in the message, So regardless what the streets feel, regardless what the geeks feel, Regardless what the bitches that just listen to the beats feel, If you so much as suggest that I'm not the fucking man, And I lost the upper hand, I'm a walk up in the jam, And remind you why the real still hold a bit of leverage. Tell 'em Adam's back, y'all can go and get a beverage. Ay yo, 22 hours a day I'm upping my cash flow, the other 2 hours, I'm up in your mother's asshole. Which leaves 4 hours to sleep, maybe more, I ain't sure, I'm pretty drunk and I was never good at math, yo. Somehow I still find the time to record, Cuz I refuse to be denied or ignored. And I don't even like rapping it just happens when I'm high and I'm bored, But I'm a be that til the day I say hi to the lord.
FLOW's gone. Now where you morons, Gonna send your imitation Lil Wayne and Hov songs, faggots? Sold your soul thinking you're gon' get your dough on, Where'd you go wrong? So long faggots. I told y'all shit was gonna fall and it fucking did, Hope all you little so-called rappers struck it big sucking dick. Neck-Jerking clowns say it's networking, Bet certain names that were around won't be returning. Next person on that 'Young' trash gets their lungs slashed, Gun blasts for any dumb-ass that ever flung cash. Unlatched dirtbag, searching for the first fag rhyming, And write the word 'Swag' in his blood splash. Run fast you might have one last shitty show, Probably do another Yonge & Dundas video. Catch a half-buzz off the love RapCity throw and there you go, Height of your career looking pretty low, really though. What you gonna do now to get a rep? Be the millionth kid with autotune on the internet? Incorrect. Underground revolution in effect, Welcome to the era where the artists use intellect. Cuz in a sec, there's gonna be no more favours, No more Music Grants, no more Majors. No more 'Do a Dance', no more 'Play This', No more games just SARS, look forward to the changes.
Well it's been real entertaining entertaining y'all, If it wasn't for the center-stage withdrawal, I would've played the wall. And relieved ya but I don't need the leisure, You might need a feature but I ain't the name to call. It's fun to try, ain't no shame in aiming tall, But don't set your sights high til you ain't afraid to fall. Cuz if you go first, your verse is getting fast-forward, And if I go first, you ain't getting played at all. Small Timer. Messing with Saul by Carl Reiner, Con-Man, empty your vault and waltz by ya. Too involved to retire, too lazy to quit, And currently, I'd prefer to be taking a shit. Instead of these recitals between me and my rivals, The difference is like the pre-season and the finals. You see the spirals I run around squares, One line and you don't give a fuck about theirs. My least emphatic rhyme floored underground lairs please keep that in mind before coming downstairs. Mainstreamers. Rap day-dreamers, Receivers of the back to back brainteasers. I manufacture off back pain easers, Praying they lift the latch when I'm at St. Peter's. The gatekeepers of the game are just the same, They're afraid to let me in cuz I'm way too profane. Plus I drink like I'm some kind of freak, And I think about writing less than one time a week. So you won't find me like I won Hide & Seek, Save the money for a 16, son, buy a beat. Cuz it's Legend and contending with him's not suitable, That dude will black-out like a Lindros funeral And fuck your whole shit up, but suckers won't give up. They love my phone lit-up and my inbox stupid full. They love pretending this is a Hip Hop Musical and we're just sharing roles, But the curtains there to close. And if you think it's staying open any further there it goes, I only work in pairs with those worth comparing flows. That's FW and a select other few, If you ain't them, well then, who the fuck are you? Don't mistake the kind face of your opponent, I put too many years in to waste another moment. And you know that I'm the best so it's best not to risk it, The Best Artist Runnin' Sars, B.A.R.S full of sick shit. The best in the building, the best in the district, The best in the country don't you ever get it twisted, motherfucker.


Sick Artists Runnin' Shit (S.A.R.S) is an annual hip hop compilation of Canada's current and up & coming talent. Created and Hosted by Dudley DoWrong, the series is now a decade strong and is a must-have for any fan of raw lyrical content. While the mixtape combines rappers from across the country, this 13-Track release spotlights verses from Empire & Freedom Writer member Adam Bomb.


released January 29, 2013

For complete S.A.R.S mixtapes, please visit: thesarsnetwork.bandcamp.com


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The Legend Adam Bomb Toronto, Ontario

I rap. You rap. Everybody raps.

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