asyk saga
Lyrics
This niggas dead, watch me get brutal with this hick
Strip the skin from round his head, that’s what you do to little pricks
Prove ya booty clique is useless when the Saga start to rip
Niggas comin out the closet usually lookinfor some dick
Who quicker wit the wit? Saag. I’m nicer wit the gift, than photoshop adobe masters
Mostly magic flow be classic, plus my shows incite the masses to get to bashin and mashin
While you couldn’t’ create a spectacle working for lenscrafters
Forget practice pass the mic to me, cuz you showin no hope,
And i’m a well balanced emcee like like irish performers on a tightrope
You biting jokes to get punchlines, damn yo ass is lame,
I’ll blow you out like Congolese soldiers in Russian passenger planes
You fuckin liast in the game, cut and lacerate ya veins
Gut and gash you, stuff and pass you like some hash or mary jane
Niggas laugh cuz everything you up is dead wack and trashy
Ya styles a pore excuse for ugly like craig mack blaming acne
Stated fact. I’ll beat whore without tryin at all
As Kiki Wyatt on Apollo you couldn’t score an applause
You a bore it’s appalling how you try to pass for an artist
and fill in for a rapper, like cash money’s orthodontist
I’m forced to admonish this bitch, ass whippin been due,
You couldn’t reach a fever pitch as randy Johnson wit the flu
Banish this dude to the mainstream from the underground,
Ya style is sloppy dirty pussy, give it back to foxy brown
I’m a back this monkey down, with a mass of funky style
And actin like ya trash man everytime I’m Roc in da house
And saga’s knockin you out ya teeth whole jerky,
Pretend you want the meat spoil certainly, just quit rappin cold turkey
K-Real, cryin on his tracks, damn you a herb,
How you real when every bar you rhyming the same word
Never get a deal, never dropped something we could feel,
Never get a deal, never dropped something we could feel
My bad, I got caught up in the act, thought I was really him,
You getting slaughtered, and ya chance of movin on is looking dimmer
than a total eclipse of that sphere shinin 93 million miles from your rap status when im done sunnin you child
you wildly overated, you getting basted, it’s nothing you can do
if we was video games you double drible, I’m street volume 2
beat the tar out of you for pleasure, pure and sheer,
ya mental slower to register than autistic cashiers
this cat fears my rhymes, I can hear this mope screamin
and sayin other wise is pointless like the rest of Rick Fox post season
it’s no reason, not to bleed him, box him in wood bring out the hearses,
I’m askin kay what’s really good? Well, nigga, not ya verses,
Not ya punchs, not ya delivery, and definitely not ya voice,
no one votes, you’ll prolly lose 5 9 like Game did to Royce
NTL’s ya name choice and it’s fitting to use, cuz far as I’m concerned,
Nigga you next to lose, and never talking lucid, and needing tight lyrics,
Flow is never truly liquid so, we choose not to listen
Likke paleoanthopologists we hope to find a link missin
From ya thread so we ain’t gotta hear ya weak attempts at dissin
I’m winnin this here boy, leave you on the muddy field, leakin
And when them niggas come to peep it they can say that’s bloody real