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Sup mayn...ain't much to say here except this is Bravo aka J-Dot here tryna do my thing a little bit and maybe get recognized for it.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #3,008
Peak in subgenre #1,434
Author
Bravo
Rights
2006 J Records
Uploaded
May 15, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.7 MB • 128 kbps • 2:58
Lyrics
I put the tools to you fool, and pop the shots off,
give you the blues like a dude who ain't got his rocks off,
I pull the smith and wesson, for minimal stressin,
shots to your brain, thats what i call a subliminal message,
your simple minded lyrics don't appetize the critics,
talkin wicked, come spit it so i could hear it,
i'm a lyrical masterpiece and i has to beef,
with any nigga that cut his eyes soon as he passes me,
you might talk tough, but you ain't scaring me,
you like it rough, cuz you a little fairy B,
you far from hood, so could you really spare me man,
you ain't robin hoods wit your gang of merry men,
We could fight to the death,
You couldn’t KO me if you had Frazier’s right and Tyson’s left,
Furthermore, I’ma fuckin rape your bitch,
Hurt the whore, won’t strut after she take the dick,
Words of war, draw blood you tastin’ it,
I call your loss, That’s some fuckin hasty shit,
But, I ain’t even really worried about you,
Neither is Raphustle, cuz we do fine without you,
I set a one day deadline, yeah that’s bold,
Give you a front page headline, your status quo,
Under intense pressure, Loaded folded,
This is a hot track nigga you know who wrote it,
You know you ain’t tight, but you hope you nice,
You so backward you had Bluntz smoke YOU twice,
You try to have notions, bout rapping hard,
But you fuckin cry bout emotion, more than a broad,
I’ma send you back to square one, black your career’s done,
You wack and don’t act like your track is a fierce one,
You know its critical,
From 1 to 10 you a 5.1 and I don’t mean Dolby Digital,
But I can spit my shit right here in surround sound,
An instant hit to sit the most furious child down,
I hit you with steel and leave you feeble,
Lets keep it real nigga you ain’t even legal,
Having your chalk outline in 100 degrees,
Would be the only time this dude’ll be hot in the streets,
You wanna battle the best, yet you scared to spar,
Talkin under your breath, I can’t hear you Qua?
I’ma make you a mutha fuckin laughingstock,
Tuck your tail between your legs and fuckin grab your cock,
Run the other way before I go and grab the glock,
I’ll gun butt you one time your head’ll have a knot,
I back up what I spit, you notice dawg,
Ask em who full of shit, they say you Loaded Qua,
if it seems like I’ma run out of time,
I’ma cut it short cuz you ain’t worth coming up with one more rhyme,
