Just a Punchline joint...telling peeps fuc-kin wit me'll get ya jumpep
hiphop
rap
underground
punchline
dead broke
da gloves
round ii
Lyrics
Come round my residence….
And your whole block I’ll see ya die faster then billed presidents…
Leave wit no evidence…
Cuz the only thing they’ll find round here is bones and ligaments …
Don’t fuck around wit me, you get jumped…
And like them old reeboks, you too can get da pump…
Chump, im waiting for the day that me and you bump…
Heads, cuz I’ll cut it to your legs like a tree stump…
Fuckin sissy, I can put ya on a bus labeled wit charter…
Cuz im right behind you like a spotter…
Ready to slash ya head like harry potter…
Cuz I had more ups and downs then a fuckin teeter totter…
Click, Clack, ya gone…fullfillin my wishes…
Puttin metal in ya center like satellite dishes…
Like ya punk ass got tarrets, im adding ya twitches…
Head wit stitches, cuz im down on baggin ya bitches…
I been lookin for snitches….
And when I find one, im swingin a bat like he throwing baseball pitches…
And im spittin on bitches…
Adding fear to them, got em shook like they penis when they finishin pisses, bitch….
[chorus]
You don’t seem to care…that I carry a pump…
You must wanna die…You no good chump
Put an end to your live…I shoot close like a dunk
You don’t seem to kno…that you will get jumped
(1:15)
Im only da youth, spittin da truth…
Keep shootin, no vest, my gloves are fuckin bulletproof…
And my shells I’ll spit back like me in da booth…
No matter how many fly, my clothes aint looking like Ruths….
Check da talley, you don’t wanna catch me in an alley…
I got snipers in NY, hittin niggas in Cali….
When it come to spittin, punchlines im better for….
I had two two’s meet up, and then I met-a-phor…
Come round me, askin what I made ya chick wetter-for…
My only response is “bitch me head and more”…
Who better? Nigga, I aint in it for the cheddar…
Im in it to put red spots on ya like checkers…
Don’t fuck wit me bitch, and I mean ya better…
Or your Will gone be longer then a first love letter…
Spittin sixteen, whether its shells or my rhyme scheme…
One thing you can be certain, it’s directed to your team…
Aint seen my machines, til they meet up wit your spleen…
And believe my shells pop, quicker then caffeine…
And don’t act like ya don’t kno what I mean…
Cuz you’ll see I gotta gun that’s more silent than that nigga Mr. Bean, ya kno…
You don’t seem to care…that I carry a pump…
You must wanna die…You no good chump
Put an end to your live…shots close like a dunk
You don’t seem to kno…that you will get jumped
(2:32)
Nigga, I already got myself a name…
Made it a classic, now I got Punch to claim…
Heard pussies talk like juice-noises when I fuck a dame…
But ima toss em threw a window like a 9-11 plane…
Cuz they talk like bitches that’s looking for death…
Cuz the only time they speakin, its under they breath…
Others act like they don’t hear shit, frontin they def…
That’s the kinda shit, that get two pumps in your chest…
One being your heart, the other one being my shottie…
For those who speak murder but don’t do like Irv Gottie…
Punchline, boy drop more hits then karate…
And when im wit ya chick she gotta extra bone in her body…
Caution, ya better yield or bruises will never heal…
Cuz punch sniff lines longer then ones on soccer fields…
Talk smack? Your best bet at that points to fall back…
Cuz things can get sticky like a small-stack…
Fuck black and blues, my bruises is all black…
You’ll never reach 21 like a bad hand in blackjack…
Cuz you’ll get back-smacked, witta quick clap-back…
Cuz ya cant see beef like shallow hal’s jack black…
You don’t seem to care…that I carry a pump…
You must wanna die…You no good chump
Put an end to your live…shots close like a dunk
You don’t seem to kno…that you will get jump