Bumpy Knuckles - Turn Up The Mic lyrics

[Intro: Nas] I only f** with my n***az, I gotta keep it tight With my big brother, Bumpy Knuckles We gon' ride on these n***az my n***a, huh Turn up the mics, yeah, lets get crazy, n***a, what Turn up the mics, y'all b**h-a** n***az is Swayze Check it out [Verse 1: Nas] I'm Nasty but f** b**hes, handcuff snitches Feed they nuts to pit bulls and plan more business Got s*uts on leashes walkin on all fours Have 'em eatin from dog bowls pettin' they heads Cause they love playin that role they s**y in bed Smokin bud' I'm outta control wish d**h on the feds Cup spills with Grey Goose watchin snuff films Laughin with dykes that wear patent leather with spikes My cheddar is right, Miami beach playin it low St. Barts rent a house and a boat Two hundred thou' on my throat That's only half of what my wife ice cost Phonecall, hearin another boss got his life lost Well, wipin' sand off of my toes Read a book called "Catcher in the rye", I chose Some Bob Marley then I plotted a scheme To make me and Bump Knux more rich Then I got me a team, he got 'em a team He tryin to buy G-force with missile launchers Tired of walkin' around with beef, with that pistols on us C-4's better I'm callin up some b-more k**ers To come and bleed you As sure as the sun's in the sky you'll surely die You washed up, f** your people Your money ain't as long as mine you dumb and you foul Who you tryin to squeeze all this f** with Alzheimer's disease We the new breed, n***a [Chorus: Nas (& Freddie Foxxx)] Turn up the mics, Uh holler at somebody real Turn out the lights, Bump Knux, God's Son get it right motherf**er Turn up the mics (Aha yeah turn the motherf**ers up) Turn out the lights (That's right ya'll know why, I tell you why) Suicide suicide [Verse 2: Bumpy Knuckles] It's Bump I'm rowdy I'm wild I'm crazy I'm sick I talk slick Name brand b**hes all on my dick I don't trip I meet b**hes in this game that got pretty famous names All that projects' p**y, n***a, all the same We gangsters, we keepin it hardcore keep it street Keepin guns and microphones, be keepin heat I'm the unsquashable beef I put it in your rider That means that every show I be layin in your dressing room Next to the Henney Rock two times .20 co*ked I'm a cold a**ed n***a that keep sh** plenty hot My bubble goose is stocked with double truth For you old-a**ed gangsters and you troubled youth Knowin ; I hate cops and n***az with cop friends And still by weight in the hood they drop ends With little marks on 'em scratched by the eye You hand me a twenty, you must wanna die n***a, I won't remake a Pac record or say a Biggie verse And I shoot you without smokin a Ziggy Marley first God's Son we hot in here Bravehearts we hot in here, n***az they got to fear!