[Prelude: DJ Storm] Yeah, As we keep it movin, It's The Get Right My man Apocalipps, It's your boy, Verrazano Vilain, DJ Storm We got so many joints we don't even know what to slap you in you head with next
[Intro: Apocalipps, w/ Iron Mic ad-libs] Yo, DJ Storm, Mets, Apocalipps Lets do this baby, Ruthless Bastardz Scare-ceraded, Yeah, Uhh, Uhh, Yo, Yo
[Apocalipps] I said whats wrong, Yall can't hear the hunger in my songs (What the fuck) Yall can't see I've been starvin for too long (Damn) Cause I aint tryna go back to slangin bombs And makin your block warm and settin off car alarms (Why) See I'm just tryna get paper and fall back (What the fuck) Can't yall niggas respect it and fall back (Please fall back) The Bastardz, We takin this shit back If we all got to go to war and start spittin gats I went for music in jail to music by mail My tape is ten ninety-nine, You'll never catch it on sale I should have been home, I could have made my board in nine-nine Been I spit a tear three rhyme that got me loss of good time It fucked up my date, And Gem Stars can fuck up your face Too much bakin soda in your grams can fuck up your cake But thats a different story, So whats the issue right now Yall niggas never paid yall bills and I'm dyin to put your lights out I spit that hollow point shit that'll touch your brain Yo if you pussy when this beat drop, Tuck your chain I hate you fake pretty niggas, Tryna play Don Juan I got these three-eighty shells that'll storm through your Sean John And kill your dress code, And rip your Echo sweater in half The gun'll leave your ass splashed once it echoes and blasts Yall niggas is wack, That's why I don't listen to cats This shit right here is guaranteed to make you rip up your raps And burn then shits, Gully niggas burn them clips All these rappers out, They main concern is Lipps And fuck you corns, The shit I spit is hot you warm And I could melt your microphone into a liquid form You think I look soft nigga, But my heat stay burnin Remember, Its a wolf under the lamb skin shearlin I got one plan, And I'm only one man I work out so I can bust two macks with one hand (What else) And I'm quick to do a juks nigga, Asks your man Cause you'll get stuck like caravans in a traffic jam I'll leave you stretched like plastic man Niggas call my gun fifty bucks cause when it busts it leaves you half a man I splash ya clan, Make sure you never laugh again Give you a pound with a pound nigga, Blast the hand The master plan, Apocalipps is back again And this is my block, We'll catch you niggas after ten And you can rock a little shines and get jigga whatever But since the soldier stole my chain it wrote the coldest winter ever What's wrong, Yall can't hear the hunger in my song (What the fuck) Yall can't see I've been starvin for too long (Damn) Cause I aint tryna go back to slangin bombs And makin your block warm and settin off car alarms (Why) See I'm just tryna get paper and fall back Iron Mic, Yo his shit back
[Iron Mic] Yo let me show you why, I'm the illest nigga alive I was raised on the block where the killers reside Across the street where the dealers and the criminals hide There's two parts of me, Nigga check my lyrical side The way I translate rhymes into a homicide Part of me, Darts turn into armed robberies And sometimes leaves casualties, Battlin me Is like walkin into a precinct, Clappin the D Don't be stupid, Can't none of yall fuck with Ruthless We starvin, Potato chips, Quater juices Yall niggas suck, Put down the mic, Put your platinum up Give me the mic down in the post, Niggas aint matchin up Cause our ratchets bust, Police after us And how you gone ride, When I kill your passengers I run with, Savages that'll stab your kids nigga Get caught with a pack and be like that was his Grimey niggas that'll do like anything for the CREAM We masked up everyday like it's Halloween Niggas stay tellin fibs Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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