Song picture
The Valley of Death
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3 minutes of straight spittin. Idle productions on this beat. This song has been redone on my new equipment so it is no longer downloadable!
E.Miller's Battles
This is E.Millers page of his battles....
Song Info
Charts
Peak #1,904
Peak in subgenre #123
Uploaded
October 03, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.2 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Lyrics
So im tired of all the fuccas hatin on my rhymes Just cuz im white they think I cant join the grind I swear to god Ive heard that shit a million time Till I begin to flow and prove I’ll blow your mind I sell those ounces dawg, so Fucc them small dimes Take the time to speak with me, im sure your find 10 Im more then meets the eye and just my outside And I wont deny that Im just the type of guy To provide information on how to live your life To defeat an army when all you gots is a knife Half the platinum rappers are just telling lies They got security guards that they hide behind And anytime that trouble even slightly begins They call their homeboy cuz themselves that cant defend 6 Still they claim they the shit and they got 100 clips And that they run the streets when they just runnin their lips - So I’m here to say that Im here to stay I really truly hope that its not too late cuz I wanna change the game from bein the same Time to change the game bacc to its better days Im here to walk the path that Pac and biggie paved I’m here to amaze and not to just start my own craze 10 I want my music by all cultures to be craved I want the even the president to know my name I wanna put those fake rappers to their grave Not in a sense of death, but in a sense of shame Im versatile dawg, theres no tracc I cant do Switchin up flows like I switched high schools 4 Makin these wacc cats straight look like fools Makin the groupies stare at me and just begin to drool My music is a tool to reach the unreached Hip hop is a tool to teach the unteached - See I can do love traccs talkin about love 2 Talkin about my girl bein sent from above Or talk about how imma be a pops raisin my kid Makin sure my child doesn’t do the things I did - But still everywhere you know I got my gun Scarin faggot wannabes so bad I give em the runs And just because I went from the city to the burbs That I cant talk shit and then back up my word So I flip em the bird and tell all those who aint heard 18 That Im incredible on the mic, your opinions absurd Im young with knowledge of the books and the streets Plus a bomb ass flow that makes bitches move their feet All these wannabe thugs, who you gunna deceive When I pull my gat,on you, you aint thug to me You thought youd never see a white boy with a gansta status I don’t mean to be gangsta, its just naturally a habit So I aint been locced up in in a cell to rot That don’t mean I aint a thug, I just never been caught And aint no one compare to all these rhymes that I jot no one in the world would think id ever spit this hot I hit the blocc, slap any bitch who trips a lot You know I don’t hit the rocc, I just sniff a lot - So now Im at 51 bars, theres only 17 left No one spit like this since game left G-Unit Rap aint a dream no more it’s a reality I feel it comin cuz all these labels be finding me it’s a short time before there signin me I knew it was time for me, to find the beat To spit a tracc on to attract the industry Everyone know this traccs hotter than can be I be slaughterin G’s who think they hotter than me I know half my traccs just bring me beef But I accept the grief, I can spit for free Not only am I great, but it’s a stress relief You don know how it feels to rip an emcee Or shank some dude who thought he was a G It’s the end of the tracc and as I look bacc I wanna thank all the homies who ever had my bacc And all the fans thanks for givin me a hand And to all the haters, I just ruined your plans
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