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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,488
Peak in subgenre #47
Author
Suspicious
Rights
2004
Uploaded
May 18, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.2 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Yo, ain't no love lost, at any and all costs
I'm ready for Star Wars, cut'chu wit machetes and sharp swords
Your pettiless art form, is really uncalled for
Cuz I already murked your ass the first four times that I spit
Need I remind you again?
NastyPoet was YOUR friend, not mines, ya little bitch
And look what happened to him, he's never rappin' again
And that's gon' happen to you, cuz fucker after I'm through
You gettin' exposed in the same light, day or night
Me never scared to fight, with or without the mic
With or without a crew
Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you
So fuck you, and ya bredrens too
Steady screamin' Rexdale
But always dissin' on that sex tip, cuz sex sells
And that's the only reason you even gettin' daps
Cuz lyrically, ya whole style is chicken scratch
Rhetorically, now how do you place
A price on ya lips when I rip'em off a ya face?
Shut the fuck up wit'cha "bump this" and "bump that"
While my homie Chinx doin shows in London
My homie Shy-nobi'll drink, five 40s and spit, fire for me
Get ready to die shorty
We livin' in, dangerous times, every man for theyselves
Like cancerous cells, I attack at'cha maximum health
Pass me the belt, you ain't worthy of fame
Nobody's heard of ya name, you just jealous that I'm hurtin' your game
On the internet...? Muhfucker I got shows to do
Tell me what shows you do? You ain't professional
Rookie bettin' wit high-stakes
Gwan wit'cha primitive mindstates
You gettin' jacked like a bitch on a blind date
Tryna snatch food offa MY plate? You pitiful Stan
I'll spit at'chu and ya mans, ruin ya hands
I only plot lucrative plans and
I really doubt thatchu'd understand
I mean, you from the Rah-Rah Lands
Y'all a bunch of motherfuckin' blah-blah mans
Talkin' like you hold heat...
Bet the only time you hold heat is in the kitchen over the stove-piece
These cold streets got'chu gassed up
React what? Act tough quick to get'cha slapped up and bagged up
Like I do my groceries, it's open season
And that's how its supposed to be
Smokin' me? You can't even smoke the beat
You couldn't claim rap even if you owned the lease
So speak now or forever hold ya peace
And hopefully, you'll shut the fuck up
Fuck K.O.
