Caps get peeled rolling in my force field Like a nine with hollow points I keep rap flows that's ill So when you walkin down the block you better watch who you approachin I'm not your R&B singer, so ain't no need for vocal coachin Just a forty and a roach and I'll admit you rock the units While y'all niggaz couldn't move me if you worked for Starvin Students Downin all beer types, from St. Ide's to Red Stripe (yipes!) The menace stuffin mics down motherfuckers windpipes Has returrrrned, to burrrrn, it's time y'all niggaz learrrrrn I neaturalize y'all niggaz like relaxer in a perm with flows that go against the grain with a story so compellin I should mind The People's Court, snatch the mic from Doug Llewellyn and host my own show, after Bill Cosby comes Ricooooo! Transmitting live to all my black people Catch my drift, I'm down with my nigga E-Swift My name is Tash, I'm from the group that you don't wanna fuck with Never shy, sippin on some why ask why Smokin thai with this bitch that's more fly than Jasmin Guy Hooked up with John Q so let me do my thiiing while niggaz rock the play shit that they bought from Chess King But still, I train rhymes to flip like a seal Niggaz say my rhyme skill on the steel is unreal But all I do is chill and swing it when I bring it Oh shit that's my nigga show these niggaz how you figure
Verse Two: Q-Tip
I bring it to your chest pour all the way live And deliver ill verse guaranteed to cause highs When we start rappin heads roll like Patton With the flood blood clot the Alkaholiks rhyme a lot Yo I'm like Grimace when I'm on this rap scrimmage ANd I got this magic wand to make your puny soul diminish The Abstract delivers, I be the Queens nigga on point Mary Jane ain't nuttin but a joint They called a nigga up to add a little bit of flavor Now I'm cuttin and slashin like Luke's light saber Yeah, what? You trapped in the zone Where MC's get seared and all spots blown And in this rap shit a nigga need to be thicky I fuck with the crew who downs the deuce deuce Mickey's I'm from the rotten apple, y'all niggaz can't grapple And love to the Liks, hit your ass like a tackle
[Pow, bust my liquid-ass style Peace to Mad Lib and my nigga Wild Child]
Verse Three: J-Ro
Yo put in the disc E While I hit the whiskey [Bust a rhyme off the head J] The nigga missed me I'm in this rap game so I'ma aim to be best It's fresh, but off the head it's like the dunk contest I don't walk the street, I roll my Jeep in an instant I rock the beat to sleep like an infant The Likwit crew, comin like this on you With that four minute Olde English piss on you You're bustin dumb raps off the cap, oh shit But I got the pen and pad locked down like a pit I let the, ink submerger, into the thin wood sheets Beats make my head bop, so I'ma rock it for the streets I fill all my days with big butts and boom I let my pants hand cause my big nuts need room I'm not old school, or new school, I'm modern school, I'm ditchin When my girl starts bitchin I gets got like a kitchen I fly down like the Chi-town wind Cause I got the iller noise to make the hardcore grin When, the saints come marchin in I'ma roll right by em in the fly Lincoln Roughneck niggaz wanna box me down Cause I got the ladies lookin like Foxy Brown The Liks bring the beer Tip sticks it in your earholes I drop the mic and strike the Heisman pose
Verse Four: King Tee
Hardcore G, I get hardcore man From the underland a fuckin wonderman, bam Lunatic potential, an isperential differential Confidentially smashin instrumentals On this tune I bring raps of doom to the mic And put my rear shit in flight, peep If the drunk funk don't wanna hump in your trunk Man you got some motherfuckin junkTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
