Dready Beatz - sh**tin On Fools lyrics

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]