Free download
Who I be? I be, I-B-E!
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,026
Peak in subgenre #193
Author
Written by Ibe Wazir
Uploaded
July 01, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.0 MB • 128 kbps • 4:22
Lyrics
James Bondage
James Bondage
James Bondage
James Bondage
You're f*** in wit a gangsta n*** ! Ha ha ha
Verse 1:
Acceptin this battle, I respect you for that sh**
But now you gotta get your ass up out of this bracket
James Bondage, what Double 0-7?
Too bad you only last for four minutes and 21 seconds
This +Mission+ is +Impossible+, ask Tom Cruz
From here on out, everything you hear's bad news
I'm from Marshall, Missouri, a small hick town
But still this n*** on your computer can get down
I won't hesitate to shove a f*** in gun in your rib
Or have one of my boyz strap up and run in your crib
And put holes in you and your b*** and ug-l-ly kids
EMT's won't see sh** but blood on they bibs
I can see your head twirlin, spinnin in circles
My lyrics hit harder than Oprah Winfrey in Color Purple
When I +Busta Rhyme+ n*** z +Break Ya Neck+
Now go sing with Aretha Franklin and beg for R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Just a lil' bit)
Chorus:
Everybody watch him, I'm gon' drop him
The Realist motha f*** a, you can't stop him
James, it's a little derange
You can't f*** wit this gangsta, I'm out of your range
(Repeat)
Verse 2:
I'll back slap a whack rappa like a fat black cracka
The gat packa is back afta the last chapta
To show you motha f*** az I ain't f*** in around
I'm the king of this sh** , where the f*** is my crown?
Yeah I said it once before but I'll say it again
You're gonna have to get an uzi and spray it to win
But you're f*** in wit a O.G., you don't know me
F*** Tech N9ne and Nelly, I'm the best from the Show Me
The M-Town heavyweight, weighin a buck 50
Tryna teach all these cats not to f*** wit me
Finga on trigga, palm feelin itchy
So much drama goin on in your city
All iced out so you know you can't miss me
Pull out the steel, make you n*** z turn sissy
Now whether I end it or not, it's a trick?
Rhymology get ready cause I'm 'bout to get busy
(Chorus)
Verse 3:
I'm kinda like Randy Moss, you just Herman Moore
Keep listenin to The Realist, you'll start learnin more
About how to survive, make it out this war alive
I've been a Marine since I was f*** in four or five
And this rap sh** , I got more game than Kerry Kittles
I've been doin this sh** ever since I was little
Once I heard Mother Goose start spittin her riddles
I grabbed the microphone and had these cats played like fiddles
In a orchestra, every pluck tortures ya
Don't let me catch ya slippin in your Chevy Corsica
What did you think, I didn't identify your whip?
I'm just keepin it real, I ain't gotta lie for sh**
I make +Bones+ start +Crushin+ when I'm +Killin+ the +Mic+
I'ma have this n*** blushin by the end of the night
And I pray you're not white with a name James Bondage
Cause if so, I'ma blow your ass up just like a bomb b***
(Chorus)
Verse 4:
That's why my pistol is aimed at the f*** in left side of your brain
That's why they label me psychotic, demonic, derranged
That's why everytime you see me you gotta tuck your chain
You could get caught slippin just after a basketball game, ha ha
That's why they now callin my click a gang
Cause we always stay strapped up ready to bang
And ain't sh** changed, I'm still gonna pop them thangs
All you motha f*** az jealous cause y'all can't hang
So I, get the bucks, then I hit the clubs
Get crunked, I don't give a f***
But you's runnin in and outcha cash, runnin in and outcha stash
Don't say sh** I'll...runnin in and outcha ass
Realist get the party crackin, hit a blunt, get it crunked
All these b*** es butt naked, exactly what I want
R-E-A-L-I-S-T motha f*** a
Now who wants to ride wit me motha f*** az?
(Chorus)
