Lyrics:
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(What) That's big trouble in a little place
Jack Burton, nightmares b4 Christmas day
(Hahaha)Hidden bars associated with the words I say
Speakeasy,
DIYE TUJHE BHI HAI FADNA
WORDPLAYS HARD AUR BARS SARE REAL
SEEDHE MAUT DE TUMHE CHAHE KRLO JITNA KAAM-NA
{R24}
UNDERGROUND HIP HOP KA DEKHO BAAP AYA
Spitting polyrhythms it's a tetragon
Stab em with a dagger or a rusty bar
Heart is pumping like I'm running a marathon
Punisher punishing with the terror
scalp dog imma make them yelp dog
And you can holler for help
But it feels like I been wearing that title belt for so long I'm getting welts dog
Woah wait
guessing
But now we're waltzing
At this strange island bar
I just drank some Pina colada's in the dark
And now we've been talking for hours bout it all
Tables turn slow divide
Choice is yours you decide
Can't run away no more can I hide
So let me be what I'm meant to be a visionary
The title I seek that's
Timbaland out of VA
In a quest to redeem his title (nah, we gonna blow this up)
And bring North Carolina and Virginia to the front of the line (ayo)
(Yo,
take shit like nigga you don't need these
Titles and mics, homey you don't need these
My CD's tight like six niggas in a Sea Breeze
I flow so sick
And can't make it
I tried to drink the whole damn bar
And couldn't take it
That's aiight!
'Cause come sunrise,
I'm still rollin'
My nuts the only
A yo we swerve out, blowing herb out, you herb out
My bout it squad, niggas get rowdy and rob
A yo you heard the title nigga, who the fuck want what
thunderstorm
I got to be strong
I got to be brave
Don't wanna bear the title
This Toilet slave
I'm Sandra H. not Sandra Dee
With my lady Y-vonne standing next
right
Cutlass or Seville
You must be crazy, get me right
What I look like? (What I look like?)
Are you even lookin'?
Who raisin' the bar that you
the lighter
I'm tryna get higher
Fuck 5-0, bitch, tryna reach 5 and 0
They fucking with my hustle, man
They tryna fuck my title
Driving to Cali, driving
i've got the title and none
Of you are taking it
You will get an action replay of
Lord of the Mics 2
If you write a bar with my name in it
I'm the best,
roulette by yaself on a trip to Mars
I break atoms in the same fashion I spit these bars
Put barbwire on my mic rip it tight till it slips and scars
table slamming cards, hella hard
Spitting over Ruff Ryder or Roc-a-Fella bars
I'm telling stories of Khaled before he Terror Squad
Different from what
my rims don't spin
I'm the type of nigga had it poppin' in the pen
You the type of nigga I was sockin' in the chin
But look, I bought the bar then,
knee-high, if you had gun I swung
And I hit hard, so kids whip tar
Nowadays I spit bars till I zip to the stars
But don't get it twisted, tho I deal wit
is the title
I can't shoot you with my knife, I can't stab you with my gun
So the only thing left is to hit you with the drums
Uh, huh, uhh, we in
Timbaland out of VA
In a quest to redeem his title (nah, we gonna blow this up)
And bring North Carolina and Virginia to the front of the line (ayo)
(Yo,
catch a fade?
Respect the brave, I want the title
So put it next to Jay's
The rest get slayed, ain't no survival
Who want the next grenade?
A mess is
care about titles, don't mind rivals, I (baow)
Bring a storm like Michael, bad like Michael, dapper like Michael
In Hollywood doing ten toes (out
plenty bars, plus ball like Penny Har'
So if you thinkin of stick this man for the dividends
Catch a quick two bullet blaze in ya abdomen
[Esoteric]
Yo,
of an american
able to do this shit without mumbling
my music will be running in the streets that you’d be walking in
Sitting in the back of a car spitting bars
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