Free download
Punchlines....kinda like LudaCris...not his style tho, i got my own
Yo its Yung J...jus wanna display my talent...Hope u like it
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #11,210
Peak in subgenre #7,039
Author
Psy-Pha
Rights
2003
Uploaded
December 07, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Dickriders come, Neone-Can-Straddle-Me//
Demise dont want J, not even Vinny-Wanna-Battle-Me//
Cuz I sent heem back wit Rattled-Teeth//
Now to increase beef, they send a Raw Cattle???...Pleez//
Yall aint ballers, no crews Blander-Wit-Tha-And-1's//
Make yall Di b4 u roll, dont get a Chance-Wit-The-Handguns//
Yall Big-Bitches that write shit thas Ficticious like Santa-W/-A-Tantrum//(HOES HOES HOES!!!)
I dont like it Raw, make a good Stew-For-Cookin//
Wit tha Hot Tools-For-Cookin, u sound like Prewf Moved-To-Brooklyn//
Beat me w/ Rhymes? wut kinda Dr. Seuss Book are You-In?//
Nigga this Da-Union n' yall sum Scary-Hoes wit massive Fairy-FLows//
Only way u beat me is if the outcome is you wit Jericho//
So Be Prepared-To-Go, Ya flows Use-Less, Got the MC Swagger to cause U-Stess...//
So hows This-Kid-Raw?//
OHHH I get it now, he got tha nickname from how i Did-His-Ma'//
I Slid-In-Raw a Kid-Is-Born??? This Kid-Is-Gone//
Now his crew in Panic-Peep, yall hoes n' Prancin-Peeps//
Eat any beef...even if its u, u Rancid-Meat//
I bust crazy, u below me sayin "I'll-Squirt-On-The-Mic"//
I'll beat the cellulite outa u Fat Albert-On-The-Mic//
My fire'll Torch-Ya-Skill, make ya momz wish she had Abortion-Pills//
While u Force-Ya-Skill, ima burn the fat out u like Forman-Grills//
Youze a Dummy-Man, ya crew aint worth 50 Cents my crew is Foldin Money-Fam//
U finna get smacked wit a Honey-Ham//
We all kno ya fat ass cook beef, but u neva Cookin-Raw//
Closest time u been to snowflakes wuz yestaday...n' u a Brooklyn-Bul'?//
Make you eat my bars...have u Shook-In-4//
Shoot you in the cheek jus to Show-His-Dimples//
Get popped in the quickness like Poets-Pimples//
My gunz? u betta Kno-It-Wistles//
Get the wind knocked out u, dont even Know-What-Hit-You//
I'm So-Official, you wanna Beat-Me, get a Genie, try the Best-Of-Wishes//
Ya fat ass gotta Retire n' come back to get Recognition//
Well in my Recollection n' Second-Guessin got u an amatuer in my Proffesion//
While I'm sharper than a Razor-Blade Amaze-Ya-Brain//
Guzzle you like Gatorade, u swear u No-Homo but in Gay-Parades//
This dude betta Stay-Afraid...cuz Psy comin n' Niggaz-Get-Cut//
Smoke em like I'm Hittin-Tha-Blunt, Raw gettin smushed like Cigarette-Butts//
I'm like Rob-Horry put me In-In-Tha-Clutch//
Niggaz like Raw on the wall Sit-Wit-Tha-Punch, maybe I'll Give-Him-A-Punch//
Naaaah maybe I wont, I'll stay in for a while like Shit-In-His-Butt//
U gon get a letter L thats how it Betta-Be//
Jus becuz Hov n' Big from BK dont mean its Genetics-B//
Ima kill ya spirit n' Set-It-Free, I won jus Let-It-Be//
Spittin fire like Kinetik-Heat, witout Knives-n'-Gunz//
I dont hate u, I Despise-You-Son//
Basically in Ell Oh Demise-Is-Done...PEACE
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