Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #320
Peak in subgenre #14
Author
RAMBO of SBDM
Rights
2006
Uploaded
June 12, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 7.4 MB • 128 kbps • 8:05
Story behind the song
I thought it would be fun to battle someone, so I picked Sinik.
He replied calling me gay the entire time, also dissing Mannik in his reply.
Mannik dissed Sinik back.
Sinik dissed Mannik back, also dissing me again.
Mannik dissed Sinik.
I dissed Sinik and had Mannik special guest on the track.
This is that track.
Lyrics
RAMBO:
I might wear tight jeans, but I don't fight clean
I smite mean, and I'm not fakin, I could flow these
words around you butt-naked.
What do you know? You're just drunk and balligerant,
and yes, Kelly is heaven sent. Just not for you, punk.
The dumb cunt fucked Tim Monk, so shut the fuck up
and take your place inside the grave I've dug for you
and placed below your name, count out and be erased.
My disposition's naggin me, and I'd rather wear tight jeans
than have my jeans fag saggin free. The least you could do
is buy a belt, take a break from all the beer and drugs, stop sucking dick, and deal with the hand that's dealt, and act
like a man, I know it's hard to understand the meaning, but
seeing as you claim to be so hung, let's see if you're deceving.
You used to be something dignified, but since Atlanta, you're oh
so quick to run and hide. And I know you heard me cuz I didn't stutter or cough. Let me say it again, bitch, you're straight up
wet and soft. Like the pussies you never had, only had dreams about while I was out about the streets motha fuckin poundin'
them out.
Guess who's back in the motha fuckin house with a fat dick for your motha fuckin mouth.
MANNIK:
Guess who's back in the motha fuckin house with a fat dick for your motha fuckin mouth.
RAMBO:
Guess who's back
MANNIK:
Guess who's back
RAMBO:
Guess
Mannik:
Who's
Rambo:
Back
MANNIK:
It's Mannik!
RAMBO:
OH MY GOD!
MANNIK:
Nightmare on Elm Street Thirteen, put my fist in your stomache and rip out your spleen. I'd reach for your heart, but the bitch stole that, took that tiny piece of shit, and broke it in half. Don't imitate my style cuz you ain't got your own. I didn't imitate yours, I schooled it, ho. Everything you do, I did first. Everything that rappers do, you do the worst.
RAMBO:
You should have grabbed that knife. You should have slit your wrists. You should just kill yourself. Nobody gives a shit. This started as a game, but the shit's turned real. You don't know when to fucking quit the fag appeal. It's sad for real, when the only thing that you're sayin is repeated over all the shit that you're playin. And we're not gay, so quit your fuckin droolin, bitch. Before you piss me off and find yourself in a ditch. I'm tactical, mathmatical, satisfactical, and bringin out the shit you never had before. And if you think I'm scared to fight you over a stupid rap song then bring your ass over and I'll send it along, hobblin and stumblin home, and if you think it's any different, you just don't know, ho. I told you on the phone when you was drunk and cryin, that I was cool and we was done but then you wound up tryin. Had to throw me in it again, and now I'm in it to win. You's a dumb motha fucka, fuckin with me is sin.
