V1 Ayo, Im playing knick-knack patty knock a beat the fuck out/ rejecting cats faster than gay kids bounced from the cub scouts/ Tossed from the front door of the clubhouse, like, “Whats up now?”/ Scour the grout off they feet and making em walk the rough route/ Im sick of niggas wearing Sean-John, always puffed out/ Hogging mics, acting retarded, just like Forrest Gump sounds/ So, if these rappers wanna bust rounds, I’ll have a field day/ I’m always in-zones when I touchdown, compton to bucktown/ Pounding the scrubs, How in the fuck your stuff counts?/ When Verbs is on witness protection, after hearing how I snuffed Nouns/ Stalk a circus and hunt clowns… If you’re smoking/ Tonedeff causes emphysema, and will ultimately turn your lungs brown/ And that’s my recommendation, I’m saving ya’ from deterioration/ By making replacements for inferior baseman/ Players that never could play at the game they were placed in/ Checking the roster for their names, just to discover that they were scraped in.
V2 Yo, I cross cultures like puzzles of words/ All y’all nickel & dime MCs are better off smuggling herb/ The minute I mutter a verb, I spark infernos/ I should be locked up for fucking kids like I was Mary Kay Latourneau/ You saying there were no… Witnesses/ Quick… if this hypocrite fibs a bit, kick his shit in and just get the whip and a hypnotist/ I’ll finish him with a little lyrical hit and then stick em and spit in his liquor with gin in it till he’s admitting it/ Y’all wack rappers are just effiminate/ If eating dick’s la vida loca, y’all niggas is living it/ So, Come ON!!, no need to do the arithmatic/ This kid is just sick, so, Heads up, peep my single Ridiculous/ I inconspicuously wow brothers, without studders, Leave sounds smothered/ You couldn’t come to grips with cow udders/ Like proud mothers, I brag with the best of em/ Ask your man what score he got after Mr. Deff tested em.
V3 If you’re the champ, hand over the fucking title now/ More rules than a cider house, pay me the proper respect… just close your eyes and bow/ Its show and tell ya better hide your style/ Im trying to separate the wack from the weak and I cant seem to divide the pile/ Stop grinning or I’ma strike ya smile/ Like lawyers strapped with time bombs, you’ll never survive the trial/ Cause I’ll defile ya name, card your ass and swipe ya file/ Bitch, Im the river of venomous flows that spiked the nile/ Despite denial, some rappers are never happy/ Yelling and shit with no email addresse talking bout get @ me/ Dog, I’m serious, with handhelds Im shouting out, like Nextel/ Don’t need a copy of Microsoft Office to EXCEL/ WORD. Im making these power points like Bill Gates/ Cause yo, if tone is recorded on chrome, its instantly the Ill Tape/ You know Domingo makes the real breaks/ Your mother said “Guanabana”, when I asked her how the dillz tastes.
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
