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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #336
Peak in subgenre #9
Author
Suspicious
Rights
2004
Uploaded
June 30, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Yo, it's the year 2004, where mad children are poor
And young people don't vote no more
It's a time of terrorism - planes hijacked
Heads hit the windows - brains fly back
A million to one odds you ever hit the lottery...
Bye-bye Toronto Chief Juliani
The biggest corruption got me sick of this fuckin'
Police force that didn't do nuttin' but sit and eat muffins
Stop the violence?
You can't hear us if you kill us, cuz then we silent
So we put it in rhymin'
Secret code identifications
Why the Caucasians always 10 steps ahead of the Asians?
Why soldiers gotta die for us to vote?
But instead we whine and loaft, and sometimes both?
And why I'm stealin' Jada's flow?
Oh no, I need to bring my shit back
No more time for the chit-chat
Puff puff pass, fuck the peace we at war
But our armies couldn't even kick down a door
Let's walk straight through the fork in the road
I mean thank God we got that damn Kyoto Accord
Whatever the fuck that is
All I see is more cars and more smog
Makin' my pores clog, dog
I'm only speakin' the truth
But most rappers don't recognize or seem to believe in the proof
See, I ain't gotta battle mans to make'em look stupid
The mind is a tool and I know how to use it
Cuz I ain't gotta battle mans to make'em look stupid
The mind is a tool and I know how to use it
Aiiyo, mister-mister-mister Youth Mindz must be fuckin' suicidal
Tryna stab the Devil in the back without a bible?
Leak my name from ya mouth again and I'ma show you
What it means to never end the beef until I roast you
Shoulda thought twice before you war, muhfucker
Lemme tell you now that'chu been warned, muhfucker
Cuz you ain't got the balls to stand tall when shit's lit
Stupid little dipshit, two words: lick dick
Fuck you
Talk shit
One more
Time and I'ma
Kill you
Then piss on ya goddamn carcass
My executioner-type swing got'chu scurred
Decapitatin' Youth Mindz worse that Nick Berg
My razor-sharp lyrics cut through to the cartilage
Kidnap ya family just to burn up ya orphanage
Fuck a freestyle, here's a written for your ass kid
Peep my cumback, now wipe it off wit a napkin
Youse a joke, tryna throw rocks at'cha highness?
Face it, you ain't a rapper...youse a typist
I hate battlin' young boys cuz very usually
They minds ain't developed and they ain't passed puberty
Ya whole rhyme structure is wrong
And you need to stop screamin' rape every time a man touch ya thong
Get used to it...drink some juice fluid
Youse a fag and everyone here except you knew it
I dare you to spit what'chu wrote and post it up bitch
But I know you won't, huh, dont'chu love it?
See you claim to be a rapper but'chu fucked for life
Join the rest of them pussies that never touched a mic
Matter fact I'ma lace vocals just to annoy you
And sprinkle feathers on your body after the oil
Chickenhead muhfuckin' joke-ass clown
Only rotation you gots a Merry-Go-Round
While my shit's been on air, you get crushed like broken herbs
Fuckin' quit rap and just stick to spoken words
