Lyrics:
you are
In his world you're superstar
Whereas in my world you didn't get too far
But by the time I realized you were just my type
Oh he had come into
I gotta count my money by the bags
I done ran through the rags, now I get to see riches
Went from having rats to the superstar bitches
Used
kill my rep
Yo she slept, and I just crept
Right on by, cause man I'm fly
Straight hardcore, through the door
Cause I'm much more, than Mr. Smooth
his chain
Then I spill his brain, then I feel his pain
Some of the consequences when you dealin with a plug thug
And I'm backed up by the Queen, we
[Kool Keith]
I got skill you're on my tip now back off
Slack off let me do this and y'all turn the wack off
The radio stereo here we go
This some shit you gotta spark up to
Some chill cool shit
Sound like it's made by The clchemist or something
cight but listen listen
This song ain't
woman and man
God bless the God, lay these Streets wall to wall
It go, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Yo, you got popped like a flick by that rivalry clique
It
mad lies and chicks with our nuts tightly gripped so we write this song for you sealed with a kiss by a groupie's lips not lips that hold lipstick I
fists full of middle fingers, I got no time for high fives
Too rich for a drive-by, pay the pilot on my private jet to keep it low and do a fly-by
Take
Yellow diamonds in the light
And we're standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine
What it takes to come alive
I'm in the fucking mood
Bitches
I feel the Botox in your lips but you don’t give me frowns
So I’ll be by your side, until my days end
And I’ll be only high, around the right men
For
(Maybe in this song, you shouldn't start by saying)
Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad
I've emptied the clip over friendlier jabs
You mentioned
or something.
Beotch!
Chorus: K-Ci
Say that you got it all
Love the way you players ball
Everyday you're at the mall
Tell me is it true or false
a dude to lick your man titty
So, next time you're in the booth pretend
Your mic is my John Hancock
Since I know you like puttin' your lips on
Stuff that's
in rehab by the way
Oh that's quite a story, she wanted to stab me (with the kitchen knife)
So now i'm fapping alone, the feeling's weird about my cat
you right
Man: Right
Salt: Word up, I want to see you, what's up
Man: I'm ok, I'm chillin'
What we gon' do
By yourself
Salt: Yeah
Man: What you up
And you're waiting you're not
Breathing holding your breath
Thinking how you gonna live when
You're surrounded by death?
We might be hiding in caves
With all
non-stop
Show love to the Berlin
Streets, hardcore Hip-Hop, B-Boys
Graff artists compete show love worldwide
Gotta get it back to the raw
Uncut Boom Bap
oh oh
But not a superstar, you know
It's like a service job
Nobody paid me to write this
Only track on the record that wasn't a paid assignment
cnd
inside the game, it's too big
It's a tight fit never made a bad song
They don't come out of my lips
Got the game by the neck
Won't let go I got tight grip
You're hit, by this trife shit that I fix
I'm just like the Devil, I don't play no tricks 'cause
Wu, gots like come on through
Su, that's the call for
the hard-core, real raw, underground
My name is KRS-One, and it's REAL!!
[Xzibit]
Well it's me, down with D-are-E
X to the Z rocks any party
Rocks
you
Tonight belongs to you
Tonight belongs to you
And I'm so glad I found you
I'm so glad I found you
You're all by yourself and I came to help
I was
stick
Carry on chat more shit and
I'ma slap your lips
Take a phone, dash your chip
You're just like Bashy
You don't know if you should act or spit
I'm
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