Used to get, bent, now I represent to the fullest Pencil is full of insolent bullets I'm like a Doberman Pinscher, Pitbull and a Rott' Mixed with a toxic, the plot begins to thicken I begin to spitting like vintage Pac, demented Demonic sinister, ever since the the Doc replenished me The day he gave me that shot when I was just 'bout to quit So to not see him with me would be a shocking image And I'm the definition of what a concrete chin is Cause no matter how many times you sock me in it And knock me to the canvas, even the boxing critics Know that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll always have a Rocky finish Eat me brocoli, spinach, cocky? Nope But I hope I offended you when I told ya how dope I am at this And put emphasis on the "dope," so when names come up In that conversation of who's the dopest, better throw mine in it And don't mind me, while I remind you of the flow You won't find anywhere, when it fires and I unload my pen explodes 'til there's no rhymes in it, reload in no time Let insults fly every sixty seconds that go by, so you know I meant it In school I was so shy, timid Two pairs of jeans I'd alternate, bummy clothes, I 'member Begging my mom for K-Mart MacGregors cause they were new St. Vincent de Paul, those Pony's were used, and no size fitted But kissed them old days, adios, I did it They said I was a gimmick, now I'm the one that those guys mimic Now you fuckers don't wanna go starting no argument Cause you know I'll win it, name a flow that's more authentic, and don't front
[Hook: Buckshot] You know I got you open, kid, don't front You know I got you open, word, don't front You know I got you open, kid, yo why you fronting? You know I got you open, kid
[Verse 2] Rest in peace to Big Proof, you was a beast, you lyrically mirrored me Molded my flow off of you, your spirit's flowing through me I love you, Doody, without you I feel so incomplete I'm no king, no need for rose petals to be thrown at my feet I'm a thorn in your side, get thrown into a throne Better watch the fucking tone that you speak, feel like I'm in the zone I'm in a whole different league on my mothafuckin' own, it's just me No opponents can compete, and I've never been known to retreat From beef, be beat, follow trends or wallow in defeat I'm still hungry as fuck, but can't even say bon appétit Cause I don't know what to eat, fucking microphone or the beat Bitch, nobody's mind works like mine It's nose to the grindstone time, holmes, your mind's blown Cause I rhyme like I'm still trying to get signed, up in the Ebony Show- -case with Denaun screaming "Who the fuck passed you the mic?" Never asked you like my shit from the get I'd rather ask you to wipe my ass, bitch You had you a nice run, now take a hike I ever meet my match, I'mma strike that bitch first Cause on the mic I gotta represent the real rappers The real rappers get their mothafuckin' skills cracking Word to Buckshot and Dru-Ha, why the fuck not? You don't like it? Suck a cock! Almost forgot Before I signed with the Doc, I almost signed with Duck Down Cause Rawkus didn't make no offers, so mothafuck Loud They jerked me around so what's up now? Wow, how much of an asshole would I sound like Rubbing it and holding some grudge now, but don't front
[Hook]
[Verse 3] Late at night, used to catch a buzz, couldn't write Now I write the type of shit to make you wipe But wear diapers cause you might leave a streak I'm on a streak windshield wipers couldn't wipe It's hard to decipher what cypher I might jump into tonight Cause I'm hyper or something, needing someone or something is lighting This fire under me, it's breathing new life, it's like I already died once I guess some people only live twice, and it's funny My days of being broke was so long ago, I lost my concept of money But you dimes won't get a fucking nickle from me Oh shit, I'm down on one knee I'm having a stroke of genius, Elizabeth I'm coming to you, honey From boy to man, and still make a whore moan like a thyroid gland I'm in another category, man, don't put me up with them pop stars I never needed a pat on the back to get at a boy, band No offense? Yes offense, precedents has been set that'll never get met Middle finger pressed against Moby's nose Shouts to Obie, the curtains closed on my show (But never forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it) You can't take it, oh Got a whole generation of rappers coming up that are nutty with the flow But convince me you've heard An MC since me who's as good with the fucking mincing of words Without mincing words that'll make you feel like I'm pinching a nerve Whose mentally disturbed, you might as well stick a knife in me and turn It'll be like my skin being Indian burned Hah, bitch there isn't one, when will you learn? Never been served if memory serves I'd battle that 'til my own recollection remembers these words
[Outro: Buckshot] You know I got you open kid, stop fronting You know I got you open, Word LifeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
