Lyrics:
Gimme all the rhythm and blues niggas
Hen rock the shots of the liquor
Hmmm, it makes me cum quicker
Rub it on your belly like jelly, R.Kelly
You
Fuck with me, you know what it is
I shoot you arm, leg, leg, arm, head
The heater burnin' bruises on my hip this year
I shoot your arm, leg,
Tell that sucka he can get back (say what?)
Misdemeanor and Meth in your area (say what?)
Are ya'll ready? Come on, play it back (saw what?)
You
soon as I said it, seems I got sweated
By some nigga with a TEC-9, tryin' to take mine
You wanna make noise? Make noise
I make a phone call, my niggas
It's four o'clock
You're sending me too many pictures of your
Baby, are your drunk?
Or did you mean to send it to another girl? (Girl)
And by the way
You niggas getting too fly but
Your lyrics are sloppy so tell me
Guess who's back guess who's back
Rick Ross talking facts like 2Pac's back
I'm a Thug
you are curves are kickin´,
An´ I am thinkin´ about stickin´.
To the beanpole dames in the magazines.
You aint it Miss Thang.
Gimme a sista, can´t
without a doubt I'm comin' back and if you don't know
call me S. I. R. T. double O
I like to say these rhymes, I do it all the time
I make my own
with crowbars
Can you Dig It?
When nothin' can save it
Shock your ass like a phaser
Burn and cut like a laser
Amaze you, with this flava
I run with
the tribe of Shabazz
Murderous material, made by a madman
It's the mic wrecker, Inspector, bad man
From the bad lands of the killer, rap fanatic
drama that's why it starts with ER
(I'm Hot) I'm by far the best stop the racket
I'm a master with a mic and green jacket
They can be the traffic write
bumpin' in your jeep (y'all know!)
That it's the piper and I'm comin' with the heat
Thoia thoing make you wanna club hop, make you wanna drop top
Make
raised in the inner city by ballers with diamonds
Climbin the benzes, rollin philles, we younger minors
Me, I be the one that's only 12 years old
Crankin
the tribe of shabazz
Murderous material, made by a madman
It's the mic wrecker, inspector, bad man
From the bad lands of the killer, rap fanatic
City by ballers with diamonds
Climbin the Benzes, rollin Philles
We younger minors
Me, I be the one that's only 12 years old
Crankin off the hook from
Get funky with it
I told you before: you burn when you play with fire
So take off your hats, matter of fact hail the new Sire
You're hungry
telling you, write on schedule
Fuck with K-R-S and I'll bury you
Deep in the dirt, or sand with a shovel
No fight, no scurry, or scuffle, just muffle
the flow and die
When I walk by say hi to the bad guy
Ayo man, there's just one left
(I'll make a deal with ya)
What? (Ah, ya got one of those
bottles of pills
Think your boy is startin' to feel like a spoiled carton of milk
'Cause it just occurred
My girl's cheatin', I'm kickin' that fuckin'
a slow blues rhythm
Like a heartbeat you'll always be with 'em
When you're married to the blues, boy,
Your guitar is your wife.
It's like that fine
juked
With a baby octopus and spewed upon with cream corn?
And that your hair-lipped queen-o-bassplayin' girlfriend
With the cross ties and the tits
On the sheet of the tablet,
I ain't lyin,
Man your girlfriend's favorite song is mine,
If I sang it then I wrote it,
Even if I didn't sing it,
Write
rap, I'm too deep for that
I lay my lyrics with logic, press the wax
Play it on your tape deck, feel the effect
If you can't take the heat, eject
But
the tribe of Shabazz
Murderous material, made by a madman
It's the mic wrecker, Inspector, bad man
From the bad lands of the killer, rap fanatic
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