Lyrics:
sellin' real low
Touch a quarter mill', oh, weigh it by the kilo
I'm just sayin' facts now, you should see the B-roll
End up as a lowlife, tryna be
dog
I see dead bodies when I close my eyes, dog
Peel a hotbox when it's time to ride, dog
If you froze up last time, you can't ride, dog
I see dead
Yo what's up.
For those who don't know.
I go by the name of Tech N9ne.
I'm gonna let you in on a little secret.
Some of the things already known,
'cause I don't have to (what?)
You can run your mouth, I don't care (care)
But if you get too close, I'm gon' clap you (what else?)
It's too real out
murder, it's foul murder
Turkeys to cowburgers the code to I'll murder
Child if you style or wild splurge
Stay away OK, Mr Giles'll hurt you
I ain't
ain't drunk, hoe
I say, what you been drankin on?
I was up in the club vibin', sippin' on sizzurp vibin'
Gettin' a lil' close with my man, slow grindin?
or feast till I make it front street
You won't ever be criticized by a real king
You will never be villainized by ya real friends
When you at peace you
ya, I get ya baby
Real talk, you know I get ya baby
If they don't, ya know I get ya baby
Aw yeah, ya know I get ya baby
Aw aw aw yeah
Oh oh uh oh
Yeah
brainwashed, really? (Really)
Kidnapped, really? (Really)
Can't eat, really? (Really)
Real talk, that shit sound silly (yeah)
And if you really, really wanna
A critical hit inflicted on the enemies
Cause Jim's always rolling with the NATURAL 20s
Raise your hand if you got mad skills
Keep it up if you got mad kills
was the least bit civil?
If television had existed, you could
Be sure they would have been
There to cover it
Or maybe even participate in it
Like their
Nigga, I was still fresh (uh)
If you take a walk in my shoes, shit, that's a real test (real)
You never seen your man on the news or witness real death
a suit of loot
You're surreal (That's one raw (big) deal)
You're surreal
Far too cerebral (enhanced appeal)
For mass appeal (I want my girls real)
You
to root for to win if they did
But I bet a stack
Whoever win gon look exactly like the bitch that I picked
If there was two of you against Ben
You could
to your face
When I put my hands on you
I'ma touch you and make you come close so you come by my way
(You come by my way)
When I put my hands on you
I feel I need a shrink, but have you ever asked a shrink if they need a shrink
Before you even blink, before you sip a drink, before you look at me,
and buy your publishin'
Aye look at him i own my publishin'
Then why you gettin' all worked up? I mean
If you broke and you own your publishin'
Well thanks
cope with the pains
Wuttup with your man
He look like he's lost
That's Jim, he dim
No lamp in the fog
But you'd probably like him
He's an honest one,
and 'bandoned houses
Jug all year, I ain't taking no losses
I got bitches in the trap
I got hookers by the store
Call me if you need a slut
You know Maxo jugging
you laugh, giggles flowing out the dam
Jim Belushi for the coochie, I'm the def to your jam
When I look on the Gram
I want a hun-nuh-ned grand
I want
like we sellin' books
Dolly Parton style, melons mushed
Now my bitch a dancer, I'm 'bout as sick as cancer
If you could swallow my style, you
I'm a tall grass sittin', long term thinkin'
Marijuana smokin', Jim Beam when I'm drinkin'
Chevrolet when I'm drivin'
I don't care about the year
I
Roc-a-fella--dat's why we die
Verse 2
Let me tell you somethin partna you ain't ready to die
Cause you take yo last breath and you close yo eyes
Same ones dat stare
You should prolly close ya eyes
You don't wanna risk of going blind do ya
Word light
If u heard right
Prolly blurred sight
Flow mean like the stomp
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