This is one of my favorite beats that I made on my keyboard, some hot sh*t!
Lyrics
Yeah, this is Ibe Wazir, but they call me The Realist around here and I'm about to do this
Chorus:
(Bounce) M-Town stomp, M-Town stomp, M-Town stomp
(Bounce) M-Town Stomp, M-Town stomp, M-Town stomp
Verse 1:
Yo, I'm that n*** on the block in a Geo
n*** z wanna hate me now like William Regal
Cause we roll deep everywhere we go
Back to the booth droppin' sh** like segals
That's guaranteed to make ya move
I'm all zoned out, mind set, feelin' the groove
Get your mind right 'fore you try to step to this
I will lay your ass out, leave ya left for sh** , yeah
Y'all know who the f*** I be
I put you in a hospital bed, stuck wit them IV's
Oxygen machines tryna help a n*** to breathe
And the docs op'ed but can't stop the bleedin'
Gimme a track, I'll blaze it up
Put me up under a roof, I'll raise it up
Got these big cities lovin' the country grammar
Come to M-Town, we'll show you how bang them hammers, come on
(Chorus)
(Repeat)
Verse 2:
Yeah, I hope you know who I be 'round here
Sides that n*** perfectin' beats around here, tell 'em
You lookin' for work? Come get your pounds here
Don't be scurred, cause that'll getcha beat down here, I will
Rush ya click, gun-butt your sarge
I'm the H.N.I.C., Head n*** In Charge around here
I can't rap about cars, I'm ghetto
In the hood we make profits bangnin' heavy metal
Make n*** z turn b*** when we rome in they house
Like a vicious rabid dog, foam in the mouth
It's been a lot of contraversy since I came in the game
It just seems like, everybody's sayin' my name
You can choose to do time or choose to snitch
Dave, I should bruise your sh** ya loose lip b*** , ugh
I don't think y'all n*** z is ready
I will eat your ass up like my mama's spaghetti, now just
(Chorus)
(Repeat)
Verse 3:
I do flows like Xzibit and +Spit+ to +Shine+
I gets what's mine, poppin' off nicks and dimes
In high school I was a clown, but I'm back to my old self
Spittin' hot sh** that can make the snow melt
I'm not a killa, I just hustle and keep pounds
And give fake MC's a lyrical beat down
On top of my sh** , got plenty of hits
See I need to get rich 'fore I reach 26
Go big and cop about fo' cribs, keepin' it gangsta
But it's 'bout time for showbiz
I'm the Albert Pujols of rap
I'm a scrappa, my other dudes hold the straps, so
Hit the deck, they aiming for the head and neck
That little teflon vest only protects your chest
So the rest of your flesh awaits to be bait
For the cops to investigate, so just
(Chorus)
(Repeat)
Bounce!
Bounce!
Bounce!
Bounce!
Bounce!
