B Dub - Drop The World (Remix) lyrics

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B Dub - Drop The World (Remix) lyrics

[Eclips] Producer of the Year Eclips The Monster CTH Chi-Town Hustlers I got a box full of pictures, and a list full of names And I'm strapped with hell of pistols looking for the rap game Because these n******gs act lame, and it f**s up my moves But let me find one of you by yourself and you're screwed! I tell them that it's war and I'm ending the feud But n******gs don't want it like white people food Because I'm too hot b**h, I'm in the one and number two spot Bet my music hit you like I smacked you with a boombox You n******gs just warm, and in this mode, I am Kaboom hot Man, I be so fly, you think I ate a couple moon rocks These n******gs are trying to blow out my flame like this was Hanukkah But I don't even really give a f**, so I will just Pick the world up, but I won't drop it goddamn it I will shake it until every rapper falls off the f**ing planet These n******gs aren't asking for war, so I demand it! Or you can just put a sock in it, n***a Can it Shut up Pipe down Hold your tongue right now Be quiet Or you will be a victim of the riot Even blind n******gs notice what great look like It's the sickest on the mic Eclipse Goodnight [Young K] They call me Paul Pierce (WHY?) What I spit is the truth No, call me Beyblade... I be ripping the booth And I stay with chicks, but I don't live in a coop I got that shotgun flow, and I'm itching to shoot (Bang) (Bang) I got my crew here, and my paper smooth For all my doubters, I got one thing to say to you Not only are we getting fame, and we're making moves But our f**ing flow is hot, like Jamaican food And the cats that want to get cake with us Back then used to laugh and just hate on us Skip them, because now they're all paper struck Because were making' bucks... What the f** they gone say to us? Yeah, and I'm still a divine soldier Spit bombs... lyrically a mind blower You ain't a grind holder Your clock got a due expiration date (Huh?) That means your time's over [B-Dub] Drop the world on your head like a constipated pigeon On the wire, I'm sick and tired of sh**ting on these n******gs I'm k**ing them from a distance with accuracy and precision These rappers be inconsistent, they challenge me, and I rip them Shred them to pieces, treat them like a sheet of paper I'm after that paper, Alligator, I'll see you later They used to hate me, now they chase me because they see the paper Only want it because they're hungry... You gotta feed the haters I throw them some money like, "Here, you can eat it..." So it gotta be hatred to still say that I'm conceited The way I'm spitting, even Ripley's wouldn't believe it How I'm k**ing features, laying them down like Tempur-Pedic [Kidd Khaos] Echoes of Legends tell me that real men never cry But they ever lie, because tears flow from my eyes My challengers Mayan calenders predicting my demise But I still go, go though the coldest winters rise Walking through the snow, as I roll it's no surprise That the higher that I reach, it'll be less people at my side No heartache is derived Because I'm looking up to God Hope he'll save me from infirmities, firm in me I'm beside eternity so I ride Counting down every second Until I blow up, because my mind's an eternally loaded weapon A ticking time bomb, my style of rhyme is effective It's so clear and addictive, they call it the Crystal Method Pattern me, so I check it... it's hard to be in remission Because the words of haters echo, it's hard for me to forgive them, but... I chop the beef with the flames, it's Hell's Kitchen And today, them rappers out of the game, because I evict them