Listen player, I think you should sit this one out
We'll have a better game without you running your mouth
I've got a question; any other MC's in the house?
If you rhyme raise your hand so I know who I'm kicking out.
Yo dude, I think you should sit this one out.
We'll have a better game without you running your mouth
Yo, I got a question. Any other motherfuckers in the house?
Man, if you rhyme raise your hand so I know who I'm taking out
...
Hold your damn horses Charlie.
This game is ours.
So what you a star?
That don't make you hard.
I'll knock your neck out that ice you sportin', I don't need your petty title, I'll battle you for your vital organs.
Autograph 'em with a mean streak and put 'em on (Ebay)
If they don't sell in (three days) then I put 'em out on the (freeway)
It's E-Y-Easy in da heezy fo' sheezy
For those that don't know we gon' show you how we play so.
He can't rap (whatup).
Step up on they ass (aight)
And give these motherfuckers a blast from the past.
C the Exiddy out of the cut with some shit that I wrote
With my nigga a-e-d-e-y-e, so you know I must be dope
Whatup, whatup
Gay nights to a gay rights enslave fake dykes and gay types
To react at S K
See I need but really ask why
Double-S U P who may bite
Then raise bites some play fights?
How yo' gon' approve the day slice?
We stay quite insane secretly
Never mundane, differently arranged symphony
Brain quickly creation of data that'll shatter matter at a
Great quakely shake to make shaky mindstates break and chain
Vividly badder patterns strap kicks
Castrate wack apes who claiming that
We only playing for this game's victory
Bitch, I think you should sit this one out
We'll have a better game without you running your mouth
I got a question. Any other MC's in the house?
Man, if you rhyme raise your hand, so I know who I'm taking out
Listen player, I think you should sit this one out
We'll have a better game without you running your mouth
Yo I got a question. Any other MC's in the house?
If you rhyme raise your hand so I know who I'm taking out
You're under my jurisdiction
Where the purest vision: every lyricist winds missing
Wishin' he carried a pistol
It's such a risky tourist visit
Is it a moral issue?
If he came to my home claiming to own
The right to show his might
Hold a microphone and recite that bullshit poem.
You ask me he shoulda known we clown clones
And take crowns from fake foes who oppose the throne.
With a pen and pad I'm bad to the bone.
And even better off the dome if you get me pissed and push me into that zone.
You must have had the Jones to get your head thrown
Get slapped round to Pakistan and sent back home
With your, wack songs.
Either right or wrong
I'll still grill your sillicone in styrofoam
I drill a hole inside your skull and steal your soul, your particles and anything else valuable
Cause you're and intellectual coward and I'm an infallible international professional styler scholar an attitude and I don't approve of you
Destroy you who seek joy through weak ploy to doubt us
Like we're just part of some novices who deplore the b-boy crew
With peepers because we was.
All of 'em drowning bitch mc's and hearing your blood attach to razorblade ask the nurse to dare you bleed for us.
We had to put wisdom on to listen to your raps and envision;
Your lacking a rhythm
Some are overload with the proper techniques to hit you in losing til it resembled that of a homeless motorcycle accident victim
Doodoo dirty
Who you hurt, me?
You booboo worthy
An immediate cremation, no casket
And your mother; nothing but a gentle waving
Courtesy of Carnage wearing her soaked in your haemoglobin FUBU jersey
Ha ha, fly trash attacks fast
And for having your whack ass
Hysterectomy via power saw,
That craft.
Dope living this.
No hesitance, we remain at rhythm with
Write a song called
"Fuck Eric B, DJ Abilities is president"
Sucker, I think you should sit this one out
We'd have a better game without your running your mouth
Ayo Carnage man, you be bugging man.
Yo I'm sure these losers got the point, why don't we just be out?
Aight
Peace