exibições de letras 232
Letra

    You dealin with a four headed monster
    Ya'll are John McCain you can't lift your arms up
    These piranhas live by a certain code of conduct
    Fuck fly ho's and blow ganja

    Be a prophet, prediction
    The year 2029 is gonna be the apocalypse
    Caused by the aprophypse ME
    I got it, lock and key
    Tell the labels we about to go on a shoppin spree
    And if ya'll don't wanna sign us your corny
    Tell ya ho to swallow two a deez nuts and call us in the morning

    We the answer to the dance floor, please
    You gotta fuck us all bitch you can't Ortiz, Budden, Crooked, Nickel
    Damn whore please, we up in this bitch like trans or seave
    We the Voltron crew, it's whateva ya folks wan do, we turn this bitch into Socom II
    I'm the best rapper alive lil wayne's migraine, jay z's headache
    Touchin what da lead ain't
    Motha fuck ya feelins, you don't know with whatcha dealin
    Tryna catch up you musta spilled n
    I'm amongst hustla's killin, money stacks touch the ceiling
    What the fuck ya feelin... you will never feel
    You will never sail, you can't feel me see me
    They should use my knuckles instead of brail
    I walk on my toes like how the fuck this talk is cheap talk it's just gonna cost you the most
    I'm the one really yo
    I'm a gun, spark like a milly yo
    You a J-hood gun video
    That ain't a diss so please don't diss me
    The mag barrel longer than the g's on fifty
    I tell a bitch, click ya heels twice and ease on with me
    This is the life... we gonnee

    I ain't with the leanin and rockin
    That ain't even seen as an option
    Nigga as a teen I was mobbin
    Stick em off with more percentage a jeans than I'm robbin, mightt
    Walk around with the thing get to cockin
    But I ain't wanna be seen when it's poppin
    You ain't seen poppin till you seen what I'm rockin
    Roll up lookin real clean in the drop and... nigga
    I ain't hit the bing or a cop since
    Dog tell ya whole team they cannot win
    Till they make some type of vaccine, I'm a problem
    I don't sleep when a soul got that wrong
    Even Vera Wang could get tapped on
    Clapped on, mashed on like MO
    My MO was Rambo, AMMO
    Got money now so there's marble on the handle
    All wax so let's beef with no candle
    Dismantle clips... BAM
    Got some shit ya man won't withstand
    I make the hood like VIP
    Now you can't even get in without a wristband
    I'm just bland... learn when you walk witcha head up high
    The shit hits the fan then
    Bread gamblin, grand tamperin
    In two bars I send ya man scrambling
    Now how it feel to throw punches and can't land em
    Or be powerless while you can't stand em
    And treat comp like Richard Simmons behind closed doors
    The boys'll man handle em
    Be outpaced till you out the race
    If you worried about ya face, about face... nigga
    Cause if you ain't all about ya pace
    Then nigga you a transgender... all outta place

    When I face off picture a thug missin his bud
    Any particular stick in the mud could get hit with a skud missile
    Till he's drippin ridiculous blood
    If you rather stick to the fist and the gloves
    Then you getting hit up, more than the prettiest bitch in the club
    Nigga I'm itchin to bug, itchin like a syphilis dick
    Itchin like the skin of a bitch addicted to drugs
    Just to hit you with slugs
    I did it because I wanted to
    Shoot you in the back of the head right in front of you
    That's what the gun'll do
    All I do is son old niggas on the W
    All I do is make all new comers come a new
    I ain't lyin sir
    You ain't gotta watch Tim Duncan dunk to see a flyin spur
    Bentley boy, no it's not H to the Izzo
    But I push buttons like Jay shoulda did Joe
    Peoples choice the voice of my time
    With Royce Da 5'9", we boys at night shine
    I let Joell poison my mind
    Grab a silencer and kill ya'll noise with my nine
    As far as the balls that get tossed in the hoop
    Peers from Boston explain how often I shoot
    I'm a Molotov cross with a nuke
    See I swallow liquor bottles till they hollow then I crawl in the booth
    I'm the truth, polygraph crooked
    Prolly have a cardiac heart attack when I autograph... bullets
    More caskets
    Put so much bread on ya head when my gunners are done man they owe taxes
    Bow legged, knock kneed, wanna regular shoot
    And you supposed to be steppin to who?
    Tell em all Crooked came for war
    The best ever on the west unless ya last name Shakur

    Just be easy buddy relax
    Please don't have me bloody my ax
    Or revin my chainsaw
    To sever ya brain off
    With no concentration I'm better than Adolf
    Never been laid off, forever put in work
    As peepz and skeetz, I fucked every bitch that said I was a jerk
    It's like you cuter when you were maneuver
    Got every dot com in my palm and I don't know how to work computers
    Ya it's true Slaughterhouse I know you heard the rumors
    That's new but ole two ways verse was ruder
    Than you worthless losers
    So we formed a four alien alliance
    Just dyin' to earth intruders
    Every bodies a president, bunch a Herbert Hoovers
    If what I said had legs it could burn a cougar
    Speakin a burn, I'm hip hop 60s shots of Henney on the rocks
    And eggnog with a squirt of Khalua
    Can't lie mad fun bein zone
    My flow straight yours slant like gumby's dome
    Lotta guys don't want me on,
    But as long as I get in the spot with my fists my gun be home
    I will beat you dudes like it's no remorse
    In a audience a Joes, I just fold my arms
    I'm so disappointed in you new rap guys
    I'm like no come on how'd he do that why?
    Oh no diggidy do that tho
    I'm MC so and so where's my ringtone tho
    See that ain't gonna cut it long as I'm around
    That goes for every person place or thing that describes a noun
    It's J-O-E double what I never did
    Whoever feel they could give me my first, when they set a date
    I'll be there like a young Mike Jack
    Hip hop prayed and God gave Pun right back

    Composição: D. Wickliffe / E. Haynie / I. Freeman Iii / J. Ortiz / Joe Budden / R. Montgomery. Essa informação está errada? Nos avise.



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