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Ass-Umptions
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hiphop underground
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old skool, classic, underground vibe
sup ya'll. it is i bino b. rockin. just tryin to do my thing and get heard. so if ya like what your hearin or if you don't let me know. any crittisism or praise is much appreciated. holler at me!
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Alternative Hip Hop
Charts
Peak #1,584
Peak in subgenre #160
Author
bino be rockin
Rights
bino be rockin
Uploaded
February 04, 2009
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 3:21
Lyrics
assumptions, come from, asses track bumpin you bastards lack the gumption now you back frontin talkin out the side of ya mouth tryna pass judgement i makes an ass of em now i gotta fat stomach cause i'm mad hungry you can call me a cat lover cause i love pussy i'm takin over rap fuckers try to take it from me i'll beat ya to death over the head, with the drumbeat cause i'm makin more noise than a fat ho in dungarees turnin rappers in to lunch meat, or blunt leaves to be smoked, life sure is dam funny but she aint no joke tryna get paid offa rap money can leave ya feelin broke now thats funny, but not that funny when ya can't go home cause ya gotta pay the bills, and ya always on the road shiiiiit, if i got paid for level of skill alone i'd be paid like don trump and nino sellin coke now everybody want some of this medicine i grow when before they wouldn't let me in the door resultin in alot of broken locks now i'm welcomed with open arms red carpets get rolled out before i even set feet on the floor regardless yo no doubt , i'm sparkin your soul now rockin the profound, till your free of the norm i speak with a sword, spill my guts on the stage and throw paper stars that leave cuts on your face i play the part of the anti hero runnin this race keep a pocketful of pennies cause i always got somethin to say worth more than the two cents of what inflation dictate so i pimp my pen, in this dam trick game and drop a slick phrase that turn you pieces of shit into shit stains you must come from a long line of bitches, cause you bitch made hitcha quik two times with the quickness with what i dictate call it quits cause theres not enough time in the world to getcha shit straight cause when i fixate on the mic my spit game is so nice my rhymes dig into ya brain like a switchblade in your eye and even if i never get paid for what i write the pen movement won't stop till the day i die my steps stay measured though i'ma take my time find that buried treasure and find another spot to hide it even in hairy weather i soldier through the silence i don't sleep i use toothpicks to keep open my eyelids
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