125 Part 3 [Connections]

Ras Kass, Gab Gotcha, Sha Stimuli, Grafh, Joell Ortiz

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Ras Kass

John Austin IV, (born September 25, 1976) better known by his stage name Ras Kass, is an American rapper. He is a former member of the hip hop supergroup The HRSMN along with Canibus, Killah Priest, and Kurupt. also a member of the group Golden State Warriors with Xzibit and Saafir. Editors of About.com also ranked him number 30 on their list of the Top 50 MCs of Our Time (1987–2007). more »

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"I don't know what I'm gonna do"

Huh i do get low ha

Bar none, when I spit a bar, I spit a bar
Hennessy, Hypnotic, Patron
Courvoisier, Grey Goose
I grill niggas, spit a barbecue
Committing drive-bys out a grey Coupe
When I start drowning rappers, dawg
It ain't cute
Till every person in they group
Turn blue like they Snoop
Watch face blue, but I'm grimey duke
I like most of y'all niggas
Better in your shiney suit's
At the hood, after hours
When I'm on the loose
Cause I hang with troops like
Sadaam on a noose
So f*ck what y'all trying to
Pass off as the truth
I done jumped from the earth
And touched the Universe's roof
Crash landed back on planet like meteor
Dust off my white tee
And lift Lamborghini doors
I keep me a meaty whore
Trini in bikini, apple martini whore
Y'all niggas is CB4 my niggas in CDC
Bounty hunter ECG dipping Newports into PCP
Give a mic to me is UFC on Spike TV
Niggas talk gangsta shit but he ain't one
Till he see that gun and
Realize nobody really love you
Like New York on VH1
I'm the ghetto experiment pop in at any son
Me and the project, project
Projecting objects at anyone
Blackjack bitches, that's 21
Dare any nigga to be a dollar and see
You want the king of the
West then holler at me

Who's been eating? I haven't daddy
Just been the booth's Houdini
Working my magic scrappy
Industry jabbing at me
I'm just trying to keep my marriage happy
But the politics and the games driving
Me crazy like an Arab cabbie
Still I never quit
Def Jam's president, from up the block
Around the corner
Down the street, where I'm selling it
Who said, "Joell is sick"?
Man I'm on the deathbed
I wrote this on the bedspread
With IV in my wrist i am him
The product of a moms who got high and
A father who ain't say "bye" to them
His family that is
Know that y'all can never break me
Look in my eyes, listen up guysdon't make me
Only a rookie in the game's eyes
Been doing this since I was yeeh high
It's alright to be shook
I will turn your first album
Into a library book
C'mon let's skim through the
Pages in my diary, look
18 I rock those stretchers
19 I dropped a 12 inch rawkus Records
That's when I hooked up with G Rap
It's nothing, bang
Y'all heard the streets feedback
At 25 I'm the outcome
Of everything between that

Y'all know I'm everything y'all want to be
I do the shit you never do
I feel it when you look at me
I'd kill myself if I was you you
See, but luckily I'm not
I used to run in labels like
"You should f*ck with me I'm hot"
By now I could have sold some mills and
Showed that I was so for real
While your roster fucked around
Like Lauren Hill's
Let me stop, I ain't hating on nobody
It's like the whole world
Is waiting on somebody
They say that I'm the obvious replacement
I just say this shit's a hobby
Lot of new rappers waiting in the lobby
But I'm coming up
Me and Joell, do it so well
Niggas either want to throw shells
Or ride on our coattails oh well
Go tell someone I'm coming
I'm sonning niggas without
Touching they mother there's no one above me
I told y'all that I was a problem
Rappers started studying me like
They could solve it listen close
I got a 9 times 5 i pop 3 times 2
Add drama
Take away your respect and divide you
In half
For your math I do this til I'm through
Living life, breathing breath
I bring death to your whole crew
I don't know if there's a better MC
Some people get better with time
I say the time's getting better with me
I got, I got my rhymes tight
The streets gave Sha light
Now you see me holding
C-Notes like the Chi-Lites
It's The Present motherfucker

I got unhappy soldiers
Esse that clappy clappy toaster
That turn you brains into nasty tapioca
Ewwww then I hop back on over
To drop autograph while I'm
Autographing a poster i'm in the cut like
Change stashed in a sofa
I'm Hennessy straight
You a pretty ass glass of mimosa you a bum
I caught you trying to go half on a soda
You make the change
I use the stash in my loafer
So it don't matter what I pack in a holster
Cause I slash you till I scratch the
Plaque off the back of your molar
It'll cut through the back of a boulder
Owwww got a pack full of soldiers
With a bag of explosives
And they clapping them toasters that can
Detach your back from your shoulders
After I blow your little daughter out
The back of her stroller
And the ricochet will blow her
Back in the stroller
Cause that gat caliber has the motor
Out the back of a roaster vrrrom
Get drunk and try to spaz you joker
Till I punch you in your face
And move your back tooth over
I'll knock 'em down your throat
You gag, you choke up
Then I bet by the time your lungs collapse
You sober breathe easy
Back don't ya i'm a crack donor
So my tax write off is a crack smoker
Aaaayyyyye i ain't battling no one so
Don't bring a challenger over
If I wanted a challenger I'd battle my poster

I ain't never met a thug
That my slugs ain't like
I never met one who lived or walked straight
When they all hit right
Head or the back you parents
Are attending a mass
Centered around that box wood
Lacquered in black
With you you laying stiff in the cushion
While I'm pushing a 'Lac
Past the church while your family's looking
Over your face, me driving over the bridge
With coke in a space sealed
By placing a switch
If life is a bitch then she f*ck me nice
Boxed up for seven joints now she pregnant
Bout to birth me yikes
My first born at least, VS1
My seed cultivating
That love grow out of weed and concealed guns
Triple beam lust
Finger fucking them grams that make twins
Out of one in my hand
My connected weight set me apart
The potential to flood it like when
Noah finished building the Ark colombian
Moving coke is an art
If Michelangelo was Pablo
Gab Gotcha gotta be Picasso
I rock flows and crush
Rocks for your nostrils
Clutch Glocks that pop when that
Blow make you hostile
Parce, cojalo suave, or I unload a clip
And siamese twin your head and the lobby
Silicone tips makes vests sizzle
Implants in your chest like fake tit's
Holes size of your nipples nigga

Gab Gotcha crown City nigga

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Written by: JOELL ORTIZ

Lyrics © Songtrust Ave

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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