f** rap
sh** is wack
Yeah I burned a copy of your sh**, I ain't buyin' that
You a hustla, you a gangsta? I ain't buyin' that
And accord--
f** rap
sh** is wack
Yeah I burned a copy of your sh**, I ain't buyin' that
You a hustla, you a gangsta? I ain't buyin' that
And according to the SoundScan, didn't nobody else, b*atch
Jedi mind trick
That's what they rhyme with
[?]
See I'm Luke Sky
With me that sh** won't fly
No carry-on baggage
So move along, maggots
I ain't Eddie Murphy
I don't pick up f*ggots
You are what you eat
You know the old adage
Your whole style is a**
You must be tossin' salads
sh** is lopsided
It's time to fix the balance
I ain't got good manners
I be actin' out
Chew with my mouth open
I never close my mouth
So when I eat you n***as get a perfect view
You don't like what I'm saying? Well f** you
[Hook: Dready Beats]
sh**tin' on fools
Anytime you come around you know a we rule
Wanna bite my style 'cause you know I got the tool
Don't even dip your toe in my shark infest' pool
Cause I'm
sh**tin' on fools
Anytime you come around you know a we rule
Listen what I say because you know I'm that dude and I am the principal of this bombaclaat school
I'm back to beepers
f** a iPhone
It's they fault, these wack rappers making ringtones
I turn the channel every time that wack sh** come on
Call that b**h Devona, f** it's on the cell phone
Her lip gloss is poppin'
'til I pop my co*k in
But rap can get me off
And still like Johnny Cochrane
I'm guilty of murder for words that I utter
Words destroy [?]
Bodies get burned when they turn up
Zodiac tracks is covered
See it's hard to discover
How I k** so ill on songs, mo'f**a (Wait!)
Sk**s don't sell, so now they retail
Cause rappers want money and a house in the hills
But fake so hard they forget what's real
Lost ones come back, play guitar like Lauryn Hill
To whom it may concern: Don't give a f** how you feel
Sincerely, truly yours
Get the f** outta here
[Hook]
Who want beef?
I can make it happen
Signed or unsigned, got a bullets for every rapper rapping
Think I give a f**?
Homie no I don't
I got girls, basics, I just want a love boat
Bobble like a pod wit a peg leg when I toke
Chuck her down my pants leg
Covered by a trench coat
Look like Inspector Gadget
So you know that gadget go
Don't touch the penny, Henny
Or that gadget gon' blow
Not like Johnny Depp
But Louie Armstrong
You ain't gon' need no pockets
Cause both your arms is gone
Or that goldie watch let's take care of that, holmes
I got my own thing
Yeah I'm makin' noise
And I ain't have to move Heavy D wit the Boyz
To get the streets hooked
So get a good look
That's the bad guy, got the whole game shook
Make so much heat, I could write a cookbook
[Hook]