Caddy One shot a new video for The Legendary Rhyme Inspector Percee P’s track “Mastered Craftsman” off his Stones Throw album Perseverance.

Percee P on Stones Throw | Percee P on Twitter

As those who picked up Perseverance on CD know, the booklet contains the complete lyrics, something we did more or less as a curiosity piece considering Percee’s legendary complex flow.  But Perc never wrote these lyrics down for us, so we had to face the nearly impossible task of translating them line by line.  It ultimately took five people four weeks to complete the job, and most of it was done by one of our new interns at the time. First day on the job we said, here you go – headphones, CD, computer – transcribe these lyrics please.  She did a great job, but somewhere near the end of it she quit.  Never heard from her again, wouldn’t answer emails or phone calls.

Percee P – Mastered Craftsman
I spit at you like a 9 milli do,
feel and kill a crew,
when syllables connect like umbilical chords,
leave frauds critical, Lord, it’s pitiful.
(Better tell ‘em).
I’m lethal, burn his weak crew and all his people,
flows eat through the brain you can see and reach through his cerebellum.
I hurt a fake, when I step to the plate, no one regurgitates,
every word I state rips through bones and vertebrae,
increasing the murder rate.
My fans are placed in rehab,
my grammar is laced inmore shit than sanitation,
everyman is facing contamination.
Heed advice,
Percee P is nice,
coming back to lead us twice like Jesus Christ.
Was my flow to blow?
Now all you need is ice.
Got my hands traced and a big fan base from every land,
race, since this man laced tracks way back and never seen my damn face.
One of a kind, bright like the sun when it shines, when it come to my rhymes if you done in the mind, don’t sing none of my lines.
Hit cities quick, like pretty chicks, Percee ain’t no idiot,
hit fifty six, get with me, shit, that’s one hundred twelve titties licked.
(Count ‘em.)
Ratta tatta, like a gat I’ll shoot data at you bladder, so scatter,
‘cause I splatter brain matter just for chatter.
Hope you run, displays are like switch-blades with AIDS,
I get paid,my shit played more than kids crave Pokemon.
Rap deacon from that region that got acts even with gats leaving the game and fame behind like Cat Stevens.
Inspired pros, retired foes, Perce ain’t liable,
tryin’ to blow requires dough,
people die at shows tryin’ to bust my rapid fire flows
Manipulate rhymes, liquidate and rip a break,
bitch get a whip and grapes, I’ll lick the plate and them things those strippers shake.
In fact listen, “g,” cats dissin’ P go back missin’ teeth,
acts wish to be like me – a part of black and rap history.