Ghetto Professionals - It's Nothing lyrics

Giancana back at y'all n***as This sh** is bigger than k**in the President Ignor-Entertainment up in this motherf**er y'all [Verse One] It's nothing! Infrared beams laser the place Two straps, radiate at the waist, I'm a marksmith Them things bark man, sprayin with haste sh** razor gladiator your face, soakin your strip Hoodied up, loc in the whip, pokin the clip Arm extended out the window, chokin the fifth Legend or myth seek a Taliban, hit Babylon Don't misinterpretate the smile of a Don, I'm fowl as a swan Get at you, spit at you with ya child in ya arms Clap at your b**h, full semi'matics eclipse Display rage like an evil omen Trust me in the backseat when you drivin I'll pop your f**in cerebral open Take position when them snakes hissin End up nickel-plate kissin, out of state missin Get gravelled in the battles and wars, rattle the four Cause cattle when you rhyme big you sound like you horse Let's do it [Hook: Joell Ortiz] It's nothing! Dudes'll talk like they k**ers But they eyes can't disguise the fact they really fear us It's nothing! Them big rims on the truck That slim ho that you pluck? That flossin'll get you stuck dude It's nothing! This ain't your ordinary rap It's extrordinary scrap - Cris', pour the Henny back like It's nothing! (What's my name?) G Rap, Giancana No throwbacks are fitted, we own rap and spit like It's nothing! [Verse Two] Five star general ranked in the game I don't respect y'all seargeants I wreck you varmints, eject them comments, and wet y'all garments I bank sure as the flames from out them Texas orange Keep fresh hoes in flesh and bondage, collect and garnish This ain't a threat it's a promise; give you a hospital bed And a harness, reps get tarnished if you don't hit that deck For homage and beg for your pardon, G Rap head of the squadron Kid be sent to alarmin; you flipped and stepped out of margin You infuriated the Gods and the stars and The sky's bout to thunder, you low-life come out from under About to heat your winters and drought your summers One right up on your fort, forty-five Colt buckin the horse Give your body your nuts in divorce Dick in the dirt, you flip to the earth Check where the hit tip grippin the shirt Get a flashback, flick to your birth It's war for you mo-rons, we wave four arms Draw with arms, more arms and more arms and more arms G Rap Giancana that raw Don made my bones When I was a young buck I played with chrome Blaze Stallone, get your brains blown, grazin the dome Get my stage on, the rage is on, my n***a .. Yo chill G [Hook]