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Hip-Hop you can relate to, even if you dont relate.
I'm Emcee Lug. I write my own lyrics. I dont bite lines. When I spit a freestyle, it's actually a freestyle. I'll batte anyone, no matter if it's track or freestyle, because I've got the drive to win.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,143
Peak in subgenre #591
Author
Lyrics by Emcee Lug/Beat by Dubs Attic
Rights
CNEoM
Uploaded
February 11, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.0 MB • 128 kbps • 4:19
Story behind the song
kid challenged me to a battle track.... and didn't come with the heat... so whatevers whatever
Lyrics
Yo mister e, why you’re rappin is a mystery
I’ll erase you like your internet history
You’re shit to me, easily wiped up
Actin like you’re a rapper and a big white thug
Getting hyped up, cuz your track finally matters
But only cuz you use my name so don’t feel flattered
You’ll get scattered like ashes, bein burned with matches
I flow like an std, you’re sure to catch it
Got an early death wish, so you answered the call out
Better watch your step or your teeth will fall out
I’m all out, throwin these heavyweight punches
Your rhymes are elementary like brown bag lunches
The hunch is, that you don’t really wanna make it
Try to act like you’re the shit but it’s clear you fake it
So take it as you can, cuz you’re really not the man
But if you ask your girl, she’ll say that I am
This aint a battle, it’s more like a slaughter
If you punch one time, I’ll punch two times harder
You aughta give up, drop the mic and step back
Ya track was alright, but my shit jus wrecked that
“Aight yo…. So I’m doin this track… but does anybody know who this cat even is? I mean seriously… who is this guy?
So now I ask myself who the hells mister e?
His name is jeff krech well he sounds like a bitch to me
And history proves the rumors to be fact
If he think that he can top my track he must be on crack
Getting smacked up if his little ass acts up
Cuz he Talk alotta trash but none of it’s backed up
Just a whack chump, with some weak rap tactics
Couldn’t get to where I am with years of practice
You’re actin, but you aint foolin nobody
Shoulda learned ya lesson with the track I dropped to hunchy
Somebody, really needs to tell him whats up
Before I send ya back to Bloomington with ya throat cut
Now your all choked up and don’t wanna drop a verse
Shoulda rehearsed and cut a fuckin practice track first
Cuz I disperse words straight execution style
2 shots to the temple and another where ya smile
You don’t want it with lug, cuz I got merk abilities
Leavin you lookin like you got disabilities
Easily I’ll leave your bones broken and smashed
spit flames till you creamte and snort up the ash
no amount of cash can sway the vote your way
so why fuck with a man who you know don’t play
and don’t say that you thought you could handle it
I’ll take your rap with my bare hands and dismantle it
Man I spit in way that causes catastrophes
Each bar hittin to make sure that you’ll bleed
But that’s just me, doin what I do on the mic
And you’re just you, cuttin tracks that aint so tight
Talking like you gonna kill me and I should be prepared
Well I seen the opposition and I sure aint scared
So tell me when and where, and I’ll tell you truth hurts
Cuz you could never kill me, I’d prolly die from food first
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