Free download
Who I be? I be, I-B-E!
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #7,663
Peak in subgenre #1,172
Author
Written by Ibe Wazir
Uploaded
May 08, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.1 MB • 128 kbps • 4:28
Lyrics
Chorus:
The game's over motha f*** a, we shuttin' it down
You wanna represent yo' set, well here's mine, M-Town
That's Marshall, Missouri (6-6-0)
Let me show you motha f*** as how to get this dough
(Repeat)
Verse 1:
Check it, the game's over I'm shuttin' it down
Fo' sho pound for pound the baddest thing goin down
Somebody can really get f*** ed up thinkin' it's rap
I'll send your ass to the doc to have your jaw reattached
Been there, done that, I just stick to the facts
This is my life, so f*** you if you hate me for that
I'm a professional so where the veterans at?
Droppin' hit after hit and got a million in cap
I'm bridgin the gap, flip it 360 degrees
I give my heart and my soul to have "All Eyez On Ibe"
See my name in lights when I'm walkin the Ave
Tellin' people that doubted me to kiss my ass
Ain't sh** changed, I'm still - I'm still Ibie from the block
If you don't know then you might wanna go talk to the cops
Cause my name's hot, it lives in the mouth of a pig
Mark Henley, one of my soldiers paint-balled your crib
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
"I'm goin down, down baby your street in a Range Rover"
F*** that Nelly the game's over, I'm takin over
I'm colder than sparkling strawberry sodas
Why am I still runnin' my trap? It's already over
I got nothin to lose and a lot to prove
If I get to where I'm goin, I'm not to move
You's a whatchamacallit, you's not the dude
To take me out 'less you got balls to pop the tools
You gotta react wit haist if you step in my face
If one n*** wanna front, that's one n*** erased
I beat these cats down, they said I had brass knuckles
To tell the truth my class ring made that ass buckle
I've seen worse, stomped a n*** face first, in the dirt
Ducked the allies till I made it to church
Once again my incident is blowin' up the press
But they never caught a n*** , I resisted arrest
(Chorus)
Verse 3:
These n*** z are like silicone plates, they'rrre fake
My flows are like Frosted Flakes, "They'rrre Great!"
I shine like a white shirt in a black light
All these fake ass n*** z better get they act right
Cause I'm back wit a deal, (Money), it's stacked to the 'ceil
Cadillac wit a chrome grill, I'm in back of the wheel
And I "Push It" in front of your b*** like Salt-n-Pepper
You lookin' for this trick when she's right where I left her
Pimpin' ain't easy y'all, I'll let you know
That a dude'll try to check you 'fore he check his hoe
So therefore some problems evolve, sh** it can be solved
I roll wit 20 motha f*** as and they all involved
My doggs are down for they click
Only for them would I take a whole round from a clip
You see, you hit me you got a price to pay
The Realist, you will never see the light of day
(Chorus)
