Kno - Clueless (f** Clue) lyrics

[Verse 1] I open up Blaze and see these bums all dissin' me Ernesto don't have a Clue like Unsolved Mysteries When my album drops I'll be runnin' y'all industry See me in person bet I get respect from y'all instantly f** y'all sympathy, I call your bluff like card playin' Now you on the phone with those other f*ggot A&R's sayin' "My bad, yo! I ain't know how bu*ta he could be" Next month you like ("New exclusive sh**! Jugga The Bully!!!") Got folks askin' me "Why you got beef with Clue? That dude got friends..." That's cool, I got people too What I'm supposed to do? He gave me a wack write up Misrepresentin' mine knowin' that it's phat like bu*ts This n***a couldn't scratch a record in a cat fight plus Your album s**s, wishin' you could rap like Touch You just juggle some nuts to get a few exclusives And thought no one could tell you wack, what the f** is you stupid? I question your sk**s, trashin' every mag that got you in it And I swear never heard nothin' hot you blended On my block you finished, I'm ambitious and vicious And you gonna fall cause real hip-hoppers can't stand b**hes Chorus: You don't have a Clue When you disrespect the Dirty South this how we do Got everyone from here to overseas dissin' too You don't get no respect here so, Fuuuuuuck Clue!! [Verse 2] I heard Clue's hatin', ya words in Blaze is circulatin' You ain't all that, n***as got you ga**ed like service stations In addition, your tapes got too much reverberation You f**ed up and brought an A-T-L-ien Earth invasion What, you didn't understand the story? "First Contact's" a metaphor about weed, n***a, it's self explanitory Guess you ain't get it, that's what I expect though f** ya mix tape, you ain't special, Ms. Ernesto With all that echo, tapes headed straight for trash cans I seen you live, you couldn't mix if your name was TASCAM Screamin' on all ya tapes to cover up all the mistakes That's why you never in DJ battles, you'd prolly get raped Put the plates on, what the fu*k you waitin' on? Got ya head spinnin' like those twelve hundreds you fakin' on Puff made you, then that n***a Jigga saved you Interscope paid you, now Jugga the Bully just played you I got no beef with artists gettin' run on ya tapes But if they retaliate, then they, too, gettin' punched in the face I heard you spin CD's anyway, what's that sh**? Lately your tapes ain't been bangin', it's just wack sh** So f** you, I won't even mention those other A&R's Tryin' to clone stars so broke they can't even afford cars I'm going far regardless, catchin' wreck over beats You just mad cause ya a** don't get no respect on the streets Yeah...I expected to see that lump that's in ya throat... I give ya A&R job two to three months at Interscope My sh** is dope, k** that noise and try me You the only deejay couldn't scratch if the wax had poison ivy Chorus [Verse 3] I guess you must've felt threatened by mine Either that or you too dumb to understand what I said in my rhyme The song was complex, Clue didn't comprehend the context While everyone who does is sweatin', complementin' concepts You got yours, why you hatin' on mine? And I know you got back so f** the gats this rap is breakin' ya spine I'm glad you dissed me, and I still got love for New York City But this n***a's soft like titties, DJ Clue's a sissy Similar to some of the emcees on that wack sh** he play f** The Gay Rapper, Clue's the f*ggot deejay Diss The Bully? You nuts like the condoms I skeet in You wouldn't know original livin' in the Garden of Eden So pardon the beefin' but I got issues with dude Not only are your tapes Common, but the b**h is in you That's why my real n***as no longer listen to you The President or The Professional? Which is it, Clue? It ain't President cause you got no campaign funds If it won't for Jay-Z, where would you get your champagne from? It ain't Professional cause your whole steez is amateur night You wanted action? Well, you got it like camera lights Don't reply, not even teamsters can manage to strike Got the sound man pissed cause I damaged the mic It's like this, recognize n***a get ya sh** straight And I might still supply exclusives for ya weak mixtapes [Chorus] [Outro] Big head n***a, f** you, I'll break your f**in' fingers How 'bout that? Know what I'm sayin'? Scratch you with your own needle Plus nail your turntables down on your knuckles Don't even matter, talkin' about Jugga the Bully Talkin' 'bout my sh**'s wack, you didn't even listen to the sh** If you did, you woulda known what the sh** was about Wouldn't a said that bullsh**, know what I'm sayin? Atlantis UnderWorld, save that clone rap sh** Y'all n***as s** dick for, it's that real sh** I'm tellin' you right now, man, don't even play that bullsh** Motherf**er diss me, talkin' about I'm wack? That sh** y'all heard was just wack, what the f**?!? Ignorant a** motherf**ers, man I'ma show y'all motherf**ers how to do sh** in the new millenium Continuum, baby, DJ Kno rocked this f**in track for y'all motherf**ers This what y'all motherf**ers wanted to hear? You b**h a** n***a, it's the same f**in' sh** But this time it's directed at your b**h a**... Word up