Percee P - You're Late lyrics

[Kool Keith] Yeah, what's up with all you stupid motherf**ers out there Giving me that jive vibe and that jam jam, huh Don't come back with gra** between your a** Cause I'm out here to last and move on forward past That's right, I gets deep up in that rectum and I checks them I got a problem, n***as is wack and they cold front Suburban areas, born and raised with no blunt Never had a gun to run, pump in a shootout Always went to church with mom and wore a suit out Who doubt, can it be hard faking these gods Yo Don, the kid down the block, he's writing your style Kicking your style, flaunting your style, jocking your style Did you see him at the Apollo and Following, swallowing s**m and Then throw up, blow up, then pick a ho up I never need to s** a dick for a deal I never need a car to pull a fly b**h I leave you standing like an S1-W Cold and freezing with your a**hole hangin' Coughing, sneezing, begging, pleasing MC's smell like fish, that's a reason Oh you cut your hair bald? Hey yeah yeah yeah A lot of you made ya bills with wack sk**s Now you're selling your a**hole dreams on Hollywood Hills Like a shark would bite, s** my deals with gills Cause you're no frills, taking feminine pills reel to reel My co*k you feel, f** that sh** Your girl is wet as a seal You can't front man, act like a stunt man Fool all the girls, cause your lover is one man I know the girls and girls that lick girls But it's hard to breathe with your bullsh** gheri curls Don't try to step to the X with that ill sh** I'm not P.M. Dawn, crazy man with real sh** Don't try to play me cause you gotta do shows, hoes Wipe that sh** out your nose [Percee-P] In '88 it was all about an ill flow Lyrcial goodies, not a hoodie and a steel toe Talking bout you wrecking parties, stretching hotties Catching bodies, then let me see you step to Gotti I stunned you with sk**s, megatons of it f** the guns and sh**, I'll beat anyone you get I cut you off like a sharp machete blade Swear to God, the only card you be pulling is Medicaid Joke to me, broke MC with a gold hit Wrecking, checking say better rhymes on my own sh** I got a deal corruption and come up with But n***as like you just s** dick Like cattle, punk rappers I rounds up Yo chief, I turns your f**ing beef into ground chuck You're pulling b**hes? Nope, not on my block n***a, the only hoes you can get is from my Glock Boom boom boom boom [Kool Keith] Yo Don, punch the f** in, you're late [Godfather Don] Body bag 'em, I sting 'em with lyrical Don be hangin up n***as that figure we're the jiggers with fake triggers Never underestimate, of the best will take And the rest of the state of MC's make them bless the greatest Of all top minds, align refine To an exaggerated potency of a Glock nine I rock mine with top rhymes in alotta time To weaker brothers, and others who debate how I got mine I rock on beat off beat, toss meat Where's that sk**, punk? You lost me Rehearse first curse cause we heard church worse And facilitate rehabilitate its message and purposes Blood splatter, I'm mad as a mad hatter Rappers stagger badder rappers at a distance for instance Rappers get deals after kicking nil I'm checking sk** lacks finesse and thrill on my Texas bill First blood on my verse drug so leave nubs for hands My Tims land like Van Damme to Sam Man that's packing dust, the dust with a lust to bust Because of us you want to get back into lyrical thrust But the mic you hold is overshown Or should I spit out of my lung on my tongue I brought a Trojan Now I'm a disperse the verse and peace to Percee And Keith the Earth decrease when I drop a piece