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Just me...middle class kid from the suburbs doin' my thing, livin' in Richmond now.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #9,855
Peak in subgenre #5,813
Author
The Truth
Rights
Fuck yeah!
Uploaded
December 23, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.1 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
CHORUS
My words are straight from the heart/
And, my flows are state of the art and/
Im ready to be makin' in my mark/
So, by storm is how Im takin' the charts yo/
Verse 1
Im state-of-the-art, my arts a satement of heart/
I've been great-from-the-start, startin' by takin' the charts/
And makin' my mark, remarks are basically smart/
Now they're placin' my basis so its adjacently parked
Next to the faces of stars/
Im more contageous with bars, than bars with packed with gays
sharin' AIDS in the stalls/
stalling for aid when it calls, callin' for raids of my walls/
My raves were to large, I just wanna a raise outta ya'll/
Maybe its balls, I gotta hunch thats its not/
Cuz Im punchin alot more than you punchin the clock/
I must be a watch the way my hands on ya face/
In a second my second hand will land in ya place/
And damage ya taste when you embrace my fists/
Cuz I slammed ya braces and now that jammed through ya lips
Damn that was quick, flash, blink and it passed/
Laugh cuz you kats think you're in sync with my tracks/
Verse 2
Hard hittin' writtens mixin in with the rhythms/
Cuz makin' a livin' is what I do when I'm spittin'/
Choosin' ta quit kickin' aint a decision I'm wishin'/
Cuz Im driven to deliver, its a pleaure to listen/
Every Measure's positioned with clever precision/
Incisions of syllables, this is lyrical fission/
Appearin' as visions, truth's a spiritual image/
Fearin' you, please I aint even hearin' ya disses/
Smoke, but my mirrors are tinted/
Hope that you in it for the long haul/
Its a long fall back to the beginning/
Gotta crawl before you walk, chalk it up, I'm sprintin'/
Games winnin' makin' fame, the dames be grinnin'/
spitten game is way of staking claim in women/
You girl stained the linen when it came to spittin'/
Theres a change in missions, I've completed my first task/
Which was to grasp cash and make phat tracks that work fast!
Verse 3
I make drops sweeter than cats with peach schanps
Tossin' aristocrats I'm throwin' cheap shots/
I've siezed guards overseas in weed shops/
Then speed back and start breedin' the green crops/
I beat box, like my cock meets g-spots/
Then flee the crime scene like Jocks in T-tops/
I'm recievin' carte blanche to release this rocket launch/
So I'm squeezin' on the button disruptin' the socket's punch/
Now you slumpin on that crutch, dumpin them weak bars/
Leavin' lots to be desired like you ridin' street cars/
I Defeat sars in weeks with no sleep pause/
Im a mean shark with three sets of freak jaws/
Each arch of your feet scarred, you'll need gauze/
Cuz I feed when you bleed, squeeze your weak heart/
when I speak thoughts start to free fall/
Breath hard hit the stall then see stars/
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