AllttA - Bravado {fg. VII} lyrics

Bravado Your false bravado it ain’t nothing to me I’ll call your bluff and have you duct’d like prod And stuffed inside a duffle Tumi Ain’t no scuffle newbie, you gettin’ jumped like hoopty’s Looking up and seeing two me’s (Mi’s) b**h you see the way I drew (Drew) these Sounding like a couple groupies You hanging ’round, don’t fool me The only banging gonna be the sound of pumpin’ Uzi’s And that’s the only time I beat around Funny, “Who, me?” “Like a clown funny? How funny? f** do you mean!?” I got a twin for that barrel, ain’t no laughs in them Fastened to your chin like a pharaoh with your stash missing f** a song please, I’ll get to a** whippin’ These Don’s keys gon’ lead to you gaggin’ on your last written’s You claim that you bang, but you don’t have victims Drew fangs I see through veins and you don’t have venom You ain’t got heat, you in heat and that’s different Raps so p**y they could prolly have kittens, come on [Chorus] Anyhow, any who [?] Anyhow, any who [?] [Verse 2] Ay, yo, big amo, grip handle to hold the sh** careful It gotta kick to throw a hippie out his hemp sandals And if they fit blamo, you now a lit candle Ain’t got no license to conceal, yo the sh**’s camo I load the clip with carols before I aim and fire Posted shoulder width and have it sangin’ like a chamber choir Play the wire, you’ll hear the way that I attack a man Raps that slap a man front and back of hand, that’s a ten Insane asylum type of batterin’ Mad hatter’n the way I cap a man, baffle ’em Quick to hang minds up of the scaffolding Or paint sky patterns with brains in my battle hymns Aim high, I bet you never doin’ that again Dap a rapper’s hand Nah, I rather snatch the limbs and clap them back at him I’m up in the masters den Ask’n ’em, tell me who’s your master When you tryna tame a lion with a rack of lamb [Chorus] Anyhow, any who [?] Anyhow, any who [?] [Verse 3] Hypothetical violence tryna settle with pride pent Hiding inside the cryogenically silent Fire, I find it when I start firing mind clips Wild am I check for the higher up my temp Goes it’ll let go the tyrant that I kept Less known the stress load until it explodes and I’m spent See when the writer in I vents It’s on some eye of the tiger type sh** Ayo, these stripes ain’t lying thought the violent gimmicks Got me orchestrating rhymes with no violin in it Check the case, type writer with a firing pin in it Bringing y’all face to face on some Siamese twin sh** That these joints won’t admire these tenets Just to free that fire and entire three minutes To decrease disappointments, put some iron heat in it If it seems disjointed, get the irony in it [Chorus] Anyhow, any who [?] Anyhow, any who [?]