Yo!
Get the f*** off my d*** and let me rip this s***!
I write raps,
And when n***** bite, I clap,
'Cos their s*** sounds better now.
You done let me down,
I thought it would be dope, but instead,
Your s***'s dead,
You gets fed
To the alligators lurking in the moat,
Peep what I wrote,
You bit so hard, I though your s*** was a quote.
But still I'm taxing, axing the competition,
And any wack men, I stomp & dis 'em
Easily.
And you can feel the pressure, plus
When I bust MCs'll be
Trampling eachother trying to exit,
When I flex it,
The way I wreck s*** is not unexpected.
n***** just lose when I choose
The best crews of MCs,
And turn 'em into refugees.
I slaughter a lotta MCs that are the
?Styles I compiles?, and cut 'em up like ?vows?.
Think to yourself I write the s***
So you can b*** the s***,
And I'll know, despite you get props.
[To da beat!]
n***** get dropped.
Sample: That's how it was and that's how it is!
Enough with this wackness,
Enough is my ?check?,
Enough with these m************ biting DAS EFX.
I come real when I show skill,
(Hey, yo, Saafir!) You macked on that ho ill,
And that's for real, my flow still
Is everlasting, n***** forever blasting
Shots when cash gets hot.
You're not fresh, so you hating when I be just
Ripping microphones without stating the obvious.
Now how much harder can it get?
n***** try to flow, but they soundin' like me
A year ago.
s***, old, kaput, I got loot,
To the hos I'm cute, and so I always got boots.
It's me, so be free to feel the ?Ivy swing?,
More n***** got my back than Rodney King.
I feel tight, knowing that the s*** I write
Will be exposed to foes, and everyone will feel fright.
And you'll run and tell your man, "Yo, peep this twist,
It's real, try to practise." But the mack is
Way ahead of ya, instead of ya wack sound,
I'm kickin' s*** to make MCs back down.
Got rhymes that kills, fills many empty heads,
n***** can be dead, I got 'em in line, like ?Stimpy?.
Red light, slow that s*** down, bring it to a halt.
You're wack and it's all your fault
Get the f*** off my d*** and let me rip this s***!
I write raps,
And when n***** bite, I clap,
'Cos their s*** sounds better now.
You done let me down,
I thought it would be dope, but instead,
Your s***'s dead,
You gets fed
To the alligators lurking in the moat,
Peep what I wrote,
You bit so hard, I though your s*** was a quote.
But still I'm taxing, axing the competition,
And any wack men, I stomp & dis 'em
Easily.
And you can feel the pressure, plus
When I bust MCs'll be
Trampling eachother trying to exit,
When I flex it,
The way I wreck s*** is not unexpected.
n***** just lose when I choose
The best crews of MCs,
And turn 'em into refugees.
I slaughter a lotta MCs that are the
?Styles I compiles?, and cut 'em up like ?vows?.
Think to yourself I write the s***
So you can b*** the s***,
And I'll know, despite you get props.
[To da beat!]
n***** get dropped.
Sample: That's how it was and that's how it is!
Enough with this wackness,
Enough is my ?check?,
Enough with these m************ biting DAS EFX.
I come real when I show skill,
(Hey, yo, Saafir!) You macked on that ho ill,
And that's for real, my flow still
Is everlasting, n***** forever blasting
Shots when cash gets hot.
You're not fresh, so you hating when I be just
Ripping microphones without stating the obvious.
Now how much harder can it get?
n***** try to flow, but they soundin' like me
A year ago.
s***, old, kaput, I got loot,
To the hos I'm cute, and so I always got boots.
It's me, so be free to feel the ?Ivy swing?,
More n***** got my back than Rodney King.
I feel tight, knowing that the s*** I write
Will be exposed to foes, and everyone will feel fright.
And you'll run and tell your man, "Yo, peep this twist,
It's real, try to practise." But the mack is
Way ahead of ya, instead of ya wack sound,
I'm kickin' s*** to make MCs back down.
Got rhymes that kills, fills many empty heads,
n***** can be dead, I got 'em in line, like ?Stimpy?.
Red light, slow that s*** down, bring it to a halt.
You're wack and it's all your fault