Lyrics:
The lame stuffer
Bang, deranged fucker
I walk bys and guys became Kane Tuckers
Make enemies, make friends
I make money, money make moves in the state
minutes g'ing you bitch
And I take your ass back to the crib (you know what time it is)
Lounging before SWAT raid, this motherfucker owe me money
And he
People wanna know about me the real me
They want me to leave the MC in the booth
If it's for only a glimpse
Even though they want an intense
Look
his ass before he got to the door
[Police: They shot a hostage, they shot a hostage!]
[MC Ren: You stupid motherfucker tryin' to run
Now you're dead
the brothers in the party|To find a hottie|And dance body to body|Step one: first you grab honey by the waist|Step two: then you move at a ghetto pace|Step
that I use to remove
Those heads of the mentally dead fools
I want to build with the brothers who claim to be
A said person of righteous ability
Bits
The second coming, or moving using telekinesis
Is possible, until then I'll be unstoppable
Making ends come together opulence incomparable
I get money like
the law
Turn, take 10 paces then draw
What's left is a motherfucker dead in the alley
Ice Cube is the shit on the grand finale
[Dr. Dre]
Yea, yea
Leo
Who's that? Skin tone same colour as honeybun
Spit game to the girl, man hurry up
Fuck that, man I'm really on a money run
I don't know
here, over here
Over here, over here
Ayo, fuck all that, it's the fat young Jesus
Flow prestigious
Stackin' money and playing the field man like Regis
Murder, I Wrote
The antidote be seeking like a buried treasure
By every measure lethally inject your whole sector
Wanted Dead or Alive, Rebel I escapes
target
Rag man by his garments
No point debating
Hence why dead or alive
I'm the greatest
Ahead of my time man
Your so outdated
Eradicating pagans that I
goin around
(Head shots goin down)
We getting dead bods on the ground
I said, Head shots goin around
Best MC
B m to the m b
Getting G's M's is my end
niggas on some real shit stay down
When the money come and the fame come stay down
Got a real bitch who I know gone hold me down
Only real ones in this
pavement
You can't spit if you dead in the ground
In the woods where ya head'll be found
And its good that you getting it now in the prescient confessin'
Yo, can I hear this record by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock?
Hey, man, you sure you wanna hear this, man?
You sure about that, man?
Alright
Right
live dreams so bad, I slept with open eyes
Tortured by rhymes, should've been a cop (fuck hip hop)
Should've been a dealer on the block (fuck hip hop)
y'all niggas steady copping insta grams
I know some niggas want me to chill but I don't give a damn
Bashing wack Mc's in the head just like Bam Bam
Stop
Going crazy looks
Like freedom now
Times more than money
Don't need freedom when I'm dead
Running for happiness
But every step is closer to death
I'm
Yo, listen
For the corrupt mob, John Cena, Trademarc, listen
I embarrass MC's who touch the mic with me
That's why they never holla when it's
fucking time
Ready for it
How many times?
I've got dargs that pop off singles for 'em
(Fuck all these youts, gas)
Tally the madman
Any MC, I'll
you took a
Bite of the devil's bread
And the money u made will
Mean nothing when you're dead
So think when you get that deep
Thought through your
if you a rap star you won't go far
They want to skin you alive, they know the type of jeep that you drive
You'll be dead by the end of night
No matter
Rainin like the drop is while you be topicless
Blow money monopolist - do it for eons
Shinin like it's, neon - heart colder than freon
Decidin which MC
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