Lyrics:
Hey yo, ain't you the one that was talkin' crazy to me other day on Rain Ear
(Yeah that was me, what you gonna do about it Mix-A-Lot?)
Rushin' up
WORLD Productions man I'm on my Twilight Zone
I produce my own songs mix and master write and record on my own
Then I ask myself how can you compete with
and the alimony
Is why I'm broke, but I don't care because
My impact is mandatory in a age of fake and
I'm perplexed by the hate
Why flex in your songs if
They
Dropped a song all by myself I did the mix and mastering
Yeah yeah
Lord knows it could be better but the point is that I did it
Don't got no time
you?
We haven't spotted them yet
But they're somewhere in the immediate vicinity
A 100 miles and runnin
Mc Ren, I hold the gun and
You want me
ones you don't know about
Buns by the tons, mad guns and we going out
What!!
[Swizz beatz]
It ain't over, it ain't over, ain't over
[Sonja
at the vma's
Kilo's in a gram, po's be my fans
That's why I'm overseas doin shows in Japan
I got Gats from the future, see-through guns
So when my bullets leave
always prepared
Got sons you don't know about, ones you don't know about
Buns by the tons, mad guns and we going out
What!!
[swizz beatz]
It ain't over,
and sweat between us
You're like honey on a breeze
We mix so good together
Just like sex on the beach
Calling my line, party outside
Top of the hill,
the gun and
You want me to kill a mutherfucker and it's done in.
Since I'm stereotyped to kill and destruct -
Is one of the main reasons I don't give
you?
We haven't spotted them yet
But they're somewhere in the immediate vicinity
A 100 miles and runnin
Mc Ren, I hold the gun and
You want me
Miles and Runnin'.
MC Ren, I hold the gun and
You want me to kill a motherfucker and it's done in.
Since I'm stereotyped to kill and destruct,
Is one
I got some killers so don't push me
Juicy J be on some mob shit
Waitin' by your door step hot in the bullshit
If it comes down to it ain't no thang
your year's gonna come
You didn't live by the pipe or the gun to be like me
Waitin for my turn to burn
and get a million-five, and a tax return
that be
getting darker by minute, it's getting darker by the.....
Sam Cooke made a song that is still relevant. c change didn't ever come and I'm still asking it.
I'm a get my bum rushed
By some fucking faggots who just wanna pick on a fucking runt
Stand by homos till I pull out a fucking gun
And then you'll run
I be doing this shit on the regular
Gun got a name, as I pull out Mariah, u wildinout by the way that I carry it
Pop me a perc, then I finish
respect
I make a grime beat using folk licks 'cause I wanna be the one to mix them styles
And you can find me in my own mix 'cause I wanna be the one
got a couple of rings and a brand-new watch, you want em?
'Cause I ain't never went gold off one song
I'm runnin' up on someone's lawn with guns drawn
the mix
Make your head bobble when I'm playing my shit
When I'm playing my shit
When I'm playing my shit
Bitch I'm lit
Going full throttle taking chugs not
The guns are dirty? You know I double check the safe
I take it all, still be the last to escape
Kick It like Q-Tip, we get it killed for a few chips
Play the Song Generator Quiz
We use cakes to get by, by the dudes in blue
By killing cops and selling drugs
But what can you do?
Buying a killing
Street
Who call themselves The Fugs
In April
They record by Harry Smith doing the
Punkiest songs yet to exist
Lo-fi noisy shit about poetry, sex and drugs
Grime scene law, I stay raw
I live by the grime scene law, I stay raw
I live by the grime scene law, I stay raw
I live by the grime scene law
I live
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