Rob Lewis - Ova Confident lyrics

[Chorus] (x4) "Who you gonna rip without that confidence? I really believe you're weak and overconfident" [Verse 1] Run for the hills, but there's no escape From my CD, my wax, my fat ca**ette tape I'm great, like Alexander, or nearly gets real When I hold a piece of steel and tell you how I feel All over, toes are tapping, Bronx, Brooklyn, Island of Staten Manhattan, Queens, South Central, Compton, Watts Miami, Atlanta, I blow up mad spots My name is Nine, recognize, remember you're too tender To get slick with the number one contender I flow like diarrhea when I'm dropping sh** Mamma mia, ain't no cure for the pure lyrical gonorrhea Overconfidence is popping I'm like the hourgla**, turn me over and I still keep dropping That old Nine flavor continues to pay the rent After you hear me you won't be so overconfident [Chorus] [Verse 2] I hate to bust your bubble, but every single rapper's in trouble I'm crazier than ever I'm hungrier like a shark in the ocean full of legs after dark I'mma tear sh** apart, pull more strings than a harp I'm co*ky, like that, you know the time Check the little hand, the big hand, tell me what you see Nine o'clock on the f-ing dot Pop goes the gat and if you ever knew me you'd remember that Old school, new school, ain't nobody safe New York to LA, I'm all over the place, with the base Crazy gear like a clutch, I'm the most When I touch the microphone your overconfidence is ghost It's "Outta Here" like the $5000 love-seat Egos crush when I'm rhyming to the beat You attempt to fade me and hit me with a dent So I'm stepping to you money cause I think you're overconfident [Chorus] [Verse 3] You thought you was the man, bad news kid I never heard of you, or the bullsh** you claim you did You're phoney, full of baloney, like Oscar Mayer The weiner, your style is artificial like Purina Cat chow, meow, I'm on the prowl like Thurston Howl And been on the island with mad cash, official cow I got rhymes like you got bullsh** So you know my repertoire is mad thick with intice spits Lyrically I'm so amazing like Luther I hit the stage and get ugly like Medusa And no place for delf, I ain't slamming If it's with the real hip-hop, then it's props That I'm demanding, understanding My potential, hollow-tip lyrics I'm shooting, aiming at your motherf**ing mental I'll leave you in a state of confusion, brain dead and stuck up In other words all f**ed up [Chorus]