King Just - Get Mine 2005 lyrics

[King Just] I'm like the phantom of the opera, last of the lobsters The trees from the rasta, the smoke at the Oscars Blaze at the Emmy, yo f** the nominees Starving artist, n***a, who spittin' rhymes like these Please show me, youse a n***a 'pared to Kobe Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bevery Hills, ask a foley Fast or slowly, I leave your shirt holy Or push a 500 like co-d, life acapulc-ky Now ya'll n***as playing low key Be the fake baller, and that p**y broad owe me Rap trophy, got it, in every f**ing lobby Hit you up, my product, and we gotta split the profit Put a record out, and I'mma stop it West in the bank, I got it, KJ drop n***a cop it, I ain't got too much more to tell you Bring ya Rambo life to Park Hill gun play Act gay with features, and your punch lines You want, permanent punch time from Optimus Shine We the guidelines, promatic, calling you back And let the world know, who taught you how to rap, you hear that? [Money Grip] One, two, three-in, lump out your chair Three, five, seven, me'll leave out your hair It's no use, call the cops n***a, know it's loose All I'm leaving them is pulp, playing no juice Empty out the safe, and it's condiments Nine caught 'em til, sun light shine through 'em Son school 'em, I order more rounds for ya Oreo's with a little short sound for ya Excuse you, why you steppin' to the don, for? Gat palm, crack longer than an encore Free and bust, try to indict, me and Crush Cheese cops, cuz I'm in oh-deep, got Comcast, love the way I harm tracks Put you out there, know we got contacts Cap peeled, tell me how that blast feel That steel, got 'em laying in his last meal Bezzy, vest make me look top heavy Don't wonder on the war, you are not ready Listen how I abuse tune, leave a body in ya backpack It's gotta be a boom-boom [Real Life] Mr. John Machanro, pa** the dough with a fast flow Fidel Castro, with the la**o, roppin' you 'victs It's portable, sick of the Source, I'm rip 'em off From long range, scum stains on your corpse Fear, now get in, where I fit in, stay fitted Real Life means real living, Any Give Sunday It's a gun day, one way I'mma pay ya all back someday, dum dums spray I can walk the walk, and talk the talk Fifteen downs in the State of New York f**ing ya who*es, ya'll here s** on tour I'll be waiting down south with a nine into your bulge Rhymes pour, since alotta sh** change in the game I'mma re-arrange, mask style, things ain't Gon' be the same, Homicide range Real Life, n***a, respect my name [Rush] Yo, only the strong survive in this wild world of raps Where p**y cats bunt for my rockwell raps You can't hack this criminal style of combat That came through, got 'em and drew on horseback Raw hide's the way I rip guys, and then slide Roll up and snatch yo shine, like it's mine Yo this mine, n***a, like the thoughts from my mind Slid your river side, like the crimson tide You out your line of scrimmage, I'm blind to your image Bust nuts on yo hype, all night til I'm finished This not what we finished, I hold the world record For knocking off eight M.C.'s in twelve seconds You flirting with a loaded weapon, that splittling backs Like a mack eleven, while you blastin' yo gats at heaven I'm living like you owe me something, but really You don't owe me nothing, I'm taking everything coming Call me selfish, and I leave you helpless Rotate two, and predict your pelvis I smell shell, hit these rap n***as out there Sniffin' in my kitchen like it's cooty in the air You'll find nothing here but, hard rock n***as Hard co*k n***as, rob-ya-block n***as Peel your ho n***as, steal your dough n***as And when I blow n***a, I'm bringin' more n***as