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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #2,220
Peak in subgenre #87
Author
Suspicious
Rights
2004
Uploaded
May 31, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Seems like everywhere I go I see
Enemies always tryna make me fuckin' BACK DOWN
I ain't gotta prove shit to y'all but first
You need to stop what'chu doin' and put that CRACK DOWN
Every little muscle you flex ain't worth
When I lay you to the floor wit a fuckin' SMACK DOWN
Next time you poppin' that shit I'ma lace you hard
Enough thatchu'll never ever come BACK DOWN
I'm bored outta my mind, nuttin' excites me
This whole board is mehhh, and that's puttin' it politely
I'm sick of readin' half-ass posts from half-ass hosts
And K.O. you don't really wanna cast that vote
All I know is KommonChic prolly wants me to start beef
I mean her message board is really losin' its heartbeat
Cuz after you-know-who did you-know-what
All a y'all lost face like cut-cut then paste
I'm the reason why these crab suckers hatin' so bad
Minion wants to change rap but knows his statements are wack
I'm callin' out names cuz I can and I will do it
Joe who? Never heard of him, c'mon, don't be stupid
Most of y'all ain't got a damn pot to piss in
Even Youth Mindz knows I'm smart enough NOT to listen to his shit
Retarded Skillz, you just too lame kid
Shit rhymes are shit rhymes you ain't got to explain'em
And Ad Lib should only stick to ad-libs
Cuz his Dead Verse was self-explanatory, it's just a dead verse
Divine needs to get his big head out the clouds
Dont'chu notice we Hip Hop CANADA, you ain't allowed
As for Lucas, just ask him what hurts
Gettin' murked by me or by his own basketball verse
I'm even callin' out the shy quiet ones like Profacinatti
Who write long rhymes but ain't really sayin' natting
And if I missed ya name it sucks to be you
Cuz I got three words for y'all: fuck you too
Seems like everywhere I go I see
Enemies always tryna make me fuckin' BACK DOWN
I ain't gotta prove shit to y'all but first
You need to stop what'chu doin' and put that CRACK DOWN
Every little muscle you flex ain't worth
When I lay you to the floor wit a fuckin' SMACK DOWN
Next time you poppin' that shit I'ma lace you hard
Enough thatchu'll never ever come BACK DOWN
Look, here's what'chu don't get, hip-hop's already dead
Get it through ya thick head, play dead or spit lead
Dead Presidentials run for this planet
Cuz we elected'em, now grab a gun and be mad at
The crab that's right on top of you, say there ain't no stoppin' you?
Just to get a proper view I'd start hop-scotchin' you
Don't hate the South cuz they blowin' up, nah
Hate the size of ya mouth for all that shit'chu be spewin' out
I ain't tryna battle you, let's get that clear
I'm just tryna clean the wax hair that's stuck in your back ear
Cuz how you gon' front like a conscious rapper
Then turn around and start dissin' country rappers?
That's hypocritical nonsense, sick of the contents?
You didn't even voice any political comments
The reason you don't know where good old poetry at
Is cuz people like you keep holdin' it back
