Someone to hate
Sweet Daddy Grace...
The Supreme Being...
Rap is my bitch, but right now she got me pissed
Let these niggas fuck for a buck
Damn I mis-chocked, you platinum plus but it still sucks
West-coast stuff without a khakis and a ??
But I ain't giving up, the chronic and Hennessey on my pistol rip paw
You fools busting cats in they raps
But can't take it when they raps bust back
So I be like "Yo fuck these emcees"
I'm in a record store spitting on emcees, these
My attitude rock is L's with a golden nameplate and a Kango
That's why rappers is getting strangled
They call me, Jack The Ripper when I'm off the liquor
I smoke chronic, is raw spitting in Ebonics
If you want it, you got it
But you gotta call me 'Your Highness'
Cause me and my niggas we's going to bring the ruckus, so fuck it
Born Allah is out for them duckets
With niggas with straps hit rats rolling in them buckets
Born Allah, can't hide y'all, Chief Big Balls
Sweet Daddy Amazing grace came to blaze the place
Raise the states, keep the hotness in your milk crates
And you can come to me if you're looking for someone to hate
"Next time we bring it to these faggots we ain't playing"
"You and your squad better praise the real God"
"I was born, The A-L-L-A-H"
Yo, lyrically I don't even see you fools is rappers
Bitch ass niggas sagging smiling for the cameras
Wannabe gangsters, O.D.'ed on mafia-movies
Dreamsy you smoking cigars, rolling with Uzi's
You tutsi, wear in wardrobe for the movie
You really not the ill nigga that you claim to be (You'se a phony)
All gassed up by ya people, before coming to me have a Pholie and a Primo
Death wish, cause this a fist fight to music
I'm closing on rappers and make them feel claustrophobic
I wait in the den for you to come out the closet
It be the fourth of July, but ain't nothing hopping
Shocking, I found out about your lil' girl Robin
Fucking a neighborhood felon with no protection
My erection is hard, cause I'm guard on the rap
Arm, leg, leg, arm, arm, head, enough said
[ Chorus ]
I spit refusely, my pin abused losely
Who got beef? Fool we all court in the street
I keep a p-noid, watching from across the room
Standing like a b-boy
Fool you ain't the one, you just a decoy
Kneeled before me like Sallat
Starving like Ramadan, lyrical phenomenon
Born, watch out, strike like lightning
Should I be writing, get motherfuckers in the fighting
It's on, my lyrics come in the form of a fetus
Thirty bars on labor, now you giving birth for dope shit
Every track I rip is like a birth-certificate
Floor the mothership with these dibs, puffing Canibus
Can you stand this, righteous man from Los Angeles
Notorious lyricist, trying overcome and gimmick shit
Most of them just mimic it, biting a little bit
But don't trip, we going squash that shit
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