My beats are slammin... Verse One: My beats are slammin from the rugged programming My man Bob Marley hey my man I'm Jammin You could never touch the stamina, while I'm rammin the hip-hop crowd makes me rrrah rrrah rrrah Other MC's got flipped with the ease Beggin me for burnt cigar, stop the music please No, cause I'm a PRO, rap to the conVO Make a crowd say HOE, at a strip SHOW Represent, my name is Ason, keep calm Rhyme's too smoky, funky like a stink bomb Boom! Blowin up niggaz better than pullin the trigger So you betta run for covah! Niggaz better loosen they ass, felt the glass A forty ounce bottle, yo yo yo yo money yo pass! Woooh-woooh-woooh! I sweat it live MC gonna live God? No, the nigga die The max-imum of MC's are populating The min-imum of those MC's are dominating Now all and together now, to what what who? Rhymes come stinky like a girl's poo-poo Chorus: Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa (2x) Verse Two: Ahh shit, here I go once again Rhymes get shitty from the time that I spend I come old like toe fungus mold Ask my grand-pop pop duke gave my soul Then I came with that old Al Green shit Saaa-die, taught me the ballisitc I get you blurry in your eye with a high note down, to the Brownsville, oops you got smoked The shit I'm droppin is stinkin up your area When I shoot it through like a messanger carrier I keep my breath smellin like shit so I can get FUNKY, baby I'm not havin it Chorus 2X Help master! *battle ensues* Dragon-fist! Horse-fist! Bastard, I didn't know who you wereTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
