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Rawdiculous-Holla Front Tourny Round 1
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Battle vs. Raw Azpectz
ludacris busta rhymes can
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Emcee from Southern California....Unique Style, Crazy Lyrics, Combined with intellegence
West Coast Emcee from Southern Cali...Unique style...Crazy lyrics...Combined with intellengence
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • New School
Charts
Peak #228
Peak in subgenre #23
Author
Rawdiculous
Rights
Rawdiculous
Uploaded
March 29, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.3 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
MONEY!!! no really....winning the tourny...respect and all that ish
Lyrics
(Intro) This Rawdiculous…man this cat azpectz…he’s a pussy…azpectz you a pussy…matter fact you’s a…(hoe!!!) I’ve been the one real raw since they announced the brawl..// Skin you like the predator…now you’re raw…// Clumsy kid…nothin’ you Drop can Handle this…// This round you’ll be takin’ off like a campin’ trip…// Bitch you’re just another battle rap causality// Fuck it I’ll just break it down mathematically// Added to my hit list, blazin’ fos(fours) and nines // Subtract you from round 2 make your flows divide…// Schooled you on how you supposed to rhyme…// Now the strength of this diss bout to multiply….// Azpectz don’t know me? I’m bout to gather respect// After I punch your collarbone through the back of your neck// Showin’ you ain’t built for battle on this track I Rip you up on// Cause ALL I WANNA DO is make sure you stick to love songs…// I’ll scar you up so don’t start me kid…// Cause the marks I make are permanent like sharpie is// From the Midwest thinkin’ you can spit it so fast….// But ain’t got the breath control to twist your flow man// Sound like a hoe when you try spittin’ it fasta…// Wait…more like a watered down twista wit asthma// Ain’t got no rhythm so I’ve got to tell ya// You even rhyme off beat doin’ accapellas// Get out this tourny bitch, it’s hopeless…beat it..// Everything I write is a Stroke of genius…// A true lyrical mastermind so you lost that rep// Now your name’s your favorite male feature, raw ass pecks (raw azpectz) I’m goin’ to round 2, trust that I’ll rip this kid// Ya’ll ain’t psychic…don’t give a fuck what your predictions is// Rippin’ this…. Tore your ego and didn’t come for your rep// Givin’ birth to your afterlife cause you're fuckin' wit death...// Heaven or hell… not sure where to deliver you to// So I’ll just show you one of my finishing moves// Drag you through hell and impale you on satan’s horns// But now round 2’ll know why you failed to make it tho…// (ender) Now that you’re facin’ me you must be hatin’ yourself// Cause I don’t smoke motha fucka I ain’t takin’ the L// I’m crazy as hell// I’ll stab a hole in your throat and stick my hand out your mouth so I can wave to myself// Cause I just got a bye to round 2 bitches….
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