MoSS - The BBQ (Remix) lyrics

[Hook] It's like that y'all (That y'all) That y'all (That y'all) That y'all (That y'all) That y'all (That y'all) It's like that y'all (Like that y'all) Like that y'all (That y'all) b**hes and that's all [Verse One][Eternia] This is our liberation, been patient, sick of waitin', attack 'em The show and prove or shut up and just do you type of anthem The Pam Grier make you pull the shotgun, point it at ya Don't let the look fool you, we still... Blast 'em Blow you off the stage, off the page that you're writin' on Reprogram your fake friends, ghostwriters tag along Didn't wanna go there, you forced the hand and wrote the song And so I did, warned your relatives that be the d**h of Dawn Cut the tongue and say there are none, we are them We offer you an alternative, all feminine All-star representative, all perspective All nation, a global champion, call it the [???] All elements, all natural, it's effortless Do you see the words that's formin' all my sentences? Check all the weapons as they check out While you sell out to corny executive types with they checks out We balance the books and bring the best out Mega city resting in Queens with manservants in the guest house Mapquest the destiny, best route This is the last call, so figure it out It's like that y'all [Hook] [Verse Two][Tiye Phoenix] I'm sick of these average Joes bloggin', weak flow joggin' I'm a godsend cuz I'm the fittest, no Darwin My flow is arson, toss you all in a box Murdering 'em unexpectedly like carbon monox- Please give the goddess her props, I'm better than these Jezebels They need to hire better writers like SNL They want me calling names, I won't confess and tell I let the drama build, and watch the pressure swell See, my ammo is I damage 'em with poetry Damn it, I will put that on my mammories and ovaries While you stammerin', puffin' your cannabis from overseas I'm blam-blamin' 'em, lyrically handlin' 'em soberly So take a breather, don't challenge the mamacita Flowin' harder than fellas on Cialis and Levitra My style is either, nobody flowin' this ill Lyrically I'm Manny Pacquiao, cold ya grill [Hook] [Verse 3][Jean Grae] Still the best-kept secret on the bill, the thrill's real The hype's right, the prophecy fulfilled The weaker knife fight until ya pipes leak You just a pipsqueak, a sh** stain (You weak like) Vengeance and many in legendary and didn't like The Warriors, spit game, the chicks who rip mics Embedded with big spikes, inflict pain on tracks And stay on track while y'all laid-off and laid on backs (This is the main hall) Not a practice space Get back in ya place, we master space, your fans Only use you to masturbate, that's not my job This isn't a s** tape, my ten day rockstars Lockjawed pop-tards, retards, I suggest a detour When you seein' these four, reach for your knees, lord Wait for it... Crash boom One less damn fool [Hook] [Outro][Eternia] That's how we do Two thousand and ten Jean Grae, Tiye P And me, the E.T., Moss on the track Fat Beats in the house DJ Jab in the house We going down in history Do not forget us We do not end, let's go Come on We out