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from Jay-Z - Vol. 2 Hard Knock Life (1998)
(Jay-Z)
Yeah, un huh, watch this y'all, come on,watch this y'all, Jigga Roc-a-fella ya'll, uhhhh, come on yea ! (Kid Capri} It's Kid Capri and Jay-Z, It's Kid Capri and Jay-Z Cause I'm Like That yo ! Cause I'm like that yo ! Verse One: Jay-Z As a young and dumb man, gun in the waist Sold crack to those who couldn't take the pain And had to numb it with baste Couldn't drink the henny straight, I needed somethin to chase I needed something to chase Nowadays I throw shots back,leavin nothin to waste Life is like a treadmill, niggas runnin in place Gettin nowhere fast, a whole year done past I vowed to never stop winin, 'til the earth stop spinnin Rock hot lenin, cop hot cars and hot women If it's not him then you got it confused, y'all not remembering, My motto is simply I will not lose, abide by the block rules, I buy my glock used, wit bodies on it, let me know anybody want it ? I'm raised, illrational, way misunderstood, If you ain't live like I live then run with the hood I done what i could, to come up with this paper 'til this day still Run with the hood, guess it's part of my nature, if hell awaits ya ? Nigga I'm coming with the razors, still flashin ya shit Try to pass me in a six, tight classy on the wrist Every bit of 30 karats, this is not a game This isn't why I came, make these words find a spot on your brain And burn, then I recycle my life I shall return Chorus: Female voice and Jay- Z (Woman) How tight is your flow ? (Jay-Z) Cause I'm like that yo ! (Woman) How right is your dough ? (Jay-Z) Cause I'm like that yo ! (Woman) How white is your blow ? (Jay-Z) Cause I'm like that yo ! (Woman) Only writers you know (Jay-Z) Cause I'm like that Verse 2: Jay-Z I'm a hop, skip, a jump, from rippin the pump Spittin a couple of curse words, and hittin you chump Shit, I get digits in lumps, I'm a motherfucking problem is this what you want ? Overachiever, I love chicks that puff chiva, And reefer paper, I hate the one's that blow up ya beeper Cause I, go in ya deeper, I only bone divas Inpregnate the world when I "cum" through your speakers (ha ha) Fuck hot my records got the fever Niggas kick dirt, get ya whole block sweeped up I creep up when the beef heats up, caught him with his feet up And shoes off, bout to snooze off Hatin, cause you can't turn the booze off You dudes is too soft, when I fuck with you all I might bark your ex, and spit at the locks But, other than that I ain't even fucking with cats Just me tied B.I., thug it like that, me,dame and biggs What's fuckin with that ? Y'all can never diss Jigga, get nothing for that Other then a couple slugs in ya back,(huh huh) Rappers y'all runnin around, like I won't gun ya down Last nigga that fronted, two spun him around Lord, except this offer here's somethin for your crown I admit no malice, I just met his challenge, In one Chorus : Repeat 3x (Jay-Z): Repeat 2x til fade Girls and guns, all i want stock exchange, rocks and thangs |
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| from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998) | |||||
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| from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998) | |||||
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
(snoop dogg)
I falls off into a party in the n.y.c. Niggaz lookin at me strange but they lovin my chain Bang bang, same thang, game came when I left em I do it by my lonely now I'm the big homie (slick rick) But I'm his royal slickness, ghetto weakness, come rick is The one who expose cornball rappers with the quickness Uhh, who bum from and who balls you hung from Wouldn't give a f**k what part of the country you come from (snoop dogg) I'm snoop dogg, I'm smooth and imperial I wake up every morning to my lucky charms cereal Times get drastic, yeah I'm a classic Dogg pound gangsta chokin off that boombastic (slick rick) Now put my verse on the first one-beat the herds come So be careful cause my rap will make you eat your words son (word to God) scratch i? who the hardest to match (I) Bright rewrite your still garbage to patch (snoop dogg) Haven't you heard? I'm loose, shook the feds like the juice Snoop dogg is a hundred-and-twenty-first proof Fool usea deuce-deuce of some genuine, draft I'm genuine, like vinny's whinin all about cash Cash, cash, so indeed I got the weed And keep the lighter for the hash, has it, Ever been a time when you didn't have a dime And the only way to get it was to go and do a crime? Chorus: slick rick (repeat 2x) Many underclothes hangin on the hoes Since (snoop, slick rick) crushed anyone opposed Lot of ladies - pop cristal, toast to all those Like (kid capri) helpin to unify both coasts (slick rick) I'm shredding your temple, none, 'head of the emperor Washed up, gang member? better remember I wipe my feet upon a rapper like a doormat I hit em -- where they sit around actin hardcore at Thank God for the guardians - in light of this Rappers always beg for me to show them who the mighty is Gats gonna limp, snaps on a kid That always wanna start rappin (boy they're not gonna win) And wanna dash at lethal or evil Could a king bring style and class to black people? Stick a whole log in and he buggin Cause I - represent self, with my man snoop dogg and them I drop a pile of semen on em Even in a yugo I could take they woman from em I make the hardest chew the kewl of this Kid capri, know the part of peasant, who the ruler is? Chorus (snoop dogg) I'm twenty-six.. still in the mix My hair gettin longer, my game gettin stronger A nigga been on one, I thank god Cause life in the city of stars is gettin hard And it's odd, for a g to get a job So I'd rather steal and rob, and mob with my squad My homie used to bang, now we follow farrakhan Used to read the source Now all he read is the holy qu'ran Time brings change and change brings time Listen to me hit you with this gangbang rhyme Nigga, whattup, who up, you up! Doggy dogg is on the mic I'm here to f**k it izzzup I give it to y'all, like you really got to have it Dogg pound gangstaz, boy this shit is gettin tragic But i'ma make me a grip and dip quick And f**k with my nigga kid capri on this g shit Dial tail and bail with my nigga slick rick-y And all you niggaz talkin bullshit can just miss me Can't twist me, you f**kin paper haters I'm dippin in my nine-eight gold navigator I'm dippin like a lo-lo Bouncin, smokin ounces, fo' sho' doe Chorus 1.5x |
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| from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998) | |||||
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
(kid) yeahhhhh!
(nas) uhh, qb (kid) all the people in the place! It's the one and only kid capri (nas) uhh, tm nigga (kid) along with my man nas escobar (nas) ill will (kid) we about to take this one all around the world So y'all feel this one, come on! Verse one: nas My antidote to the dope add drugs in the party Pistol-whippin your body lyrical oddessey Y'all ain't smoke real shit less y'all smokin with me And y'all ain't heard real shit, til you heard it from me Escobar, I toasted with frank white, to this new era Of gangster life, slangin words in the mic Thanks to the life, I urge y'all to write pain You a whore to the war, I remain a virgin that's tight This game i'ma run til it's done, stack my funds Packin guns, clean each gat, once a month Hope ya toast carry heavy as the vest on your chest Hope you squeeze it cause you're only safe from stomach to chest Everything else, left open, I'm smokin Next to your balls, police won't even question at all It's the esc- to the -bar, connects in ? piar? Overlord of rap, u.s. france to ecuodar Chorus: nas Have you ever met a qb gangsta, who would Shake your hand and turn ya back he would shank ya? Niggaz want the street you lookin for me You want the hot shit you must cop the kid capri Ladies dance to it, niggaz pound that in your jeep Esco' and kid capri, with the motherf**kin soundtrack To the street, thugs pop to it, sell rocks to it Puffin l's poppin glocks to it Verse two: nas Me and the streets share the same vein, same pain The whole game changed, niggaz with no brain could make dough Off of cocaine, colombian neckties Democrats to bill clinton gotta respect nas Customized flow, words stitched into the seams Tailor made lyrics words fit ya, spit scripture worship Far from ali, niggaz can't spar with the kid Regardless of your bid or who you partners with Spit, cartridges at so-called hard ni-ggaz You get, sparked and hit, held as hostages You know how the mobsters is from the heart of the bridge We just started gettin dough, yo pardon the kid I ain't used to havin shit, my youth as bad as it get Ghetto bound first lesson was to let off rounds Shots, echo the town, new york, home of The harlem mix tape, master as we all know him now Chorus Verse three: nas Uhh, what? kid capri Soundtrack to the street a theme for every hood Every lockdown facility, get ? oxed? down for grillin me Write down hostility, iced down with friends of ours Respect money and power and them honies that swallow But what's becomin apollo, nuttin but bigga bank F**k you niggaz think I ride for? Same thing niggaz die for, so we draw guns The same time in this war, leave your mind on the floor Niggaz doin thirty to life to survive in this world Transportin keys that's inside of a door Openin spots from little rock to baltimore Smoked out, chillin on the kid capri world tour Chorus (kid capri) Yeah Word up, come on We make it bump one time word up My man nas make it bump one time come on Come on, we make it bump one time word up The kid capri make it bump one time come on Chorus (kid capri) And I say party people, it's the kid capri Nas escobar, soundtrack to the streets Jumpin off, youknowhati'msayin? You a part of history, stay tuned, uh! |
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| from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998) | |||||
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
(feat. Foxy Brown, The Lox)
Yeah Uhhh [Foxy] It's time for everybody To get they muthafuckin' minds right Cause it's about to go down Straight like that Oooh Uhhh Kid Capri Ill Na Na And the muthafuckin' L-O-X That's right [Chorus: Styles] From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run The niggas that had cake and got sent up state For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate [Sheek] Aye yo, aye yo Our shit contagious, so ya'll niggas try to quaratine us Ya'll niggas shook up, and all that like Orange Juice is My gun American, but my niggas got foreign enemies Six cars between us, laced out Half my money from the drug route, ya know how that goes We into heavy metal plugs, and slum shit for the nose Is Sheek Lucion, he better ball with a groupie on My python, gettin' sex In hotels with connect the rooms Fill letter walk through on his ex Jadakiss and Styles walk a pound up through a storm Room service, bring 'em champagne with five matts on >From most hated, to heavy rotated, forget it Next stop is movies, ya'll check it when Blockbuster get it Cheap-skates, sweatin' off pre-release dates For Money, Power & Respect, on platnuim out the gates >From Rusell Simmons to Puff, Lox and DMX copped it Big time, we probably shoot this joint up on tropics When we eat fish like whiteies And bitches have all nighties Suckin' dick, me I'm on some jail shit Standing up, jerkin' off, while these hoes see these doubles click [Chorus: Styles] From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run The niggas that had cake and got sent up state For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate [Foxy Brown] Uhh, uhh Bet I salute all chicks that be gettin' them chips Throw it up, for my bitches, that be poppin' that Crist' Specially to the one's, who be ridin' that dick And if the pussy bangin', hope it cop to a stick And all my thorough chicks, who cried and lied for these cats Out of twon, on a hound for these cats, ehh Shit got dick, let 'em ground for these cats And the crocodle Prada, satsh the pund for these cats Me and my bitches got down for these cats Paid our dues, for 62's, taped to the top Seen the truth through the lie, but the bullshit is fine Like a trooper, I put that one the life that I ride Guilty charges, straight copped out the 3-5 Now fucking my crew, suffer and die Maximum 25, baby fuck if I fry It's a ditry game, when it come to slingin' them thangs Bail like a hundered-thou, but the us is more change Shit, i used to trick that from jewels and the rings, huh [Chorus: Styles] From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run The niggas that had cake and got sent up state For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate [Styles] Fred one, for niggas that be bustin' they gun Till the death, what'd you expect for a couple of one's Fred two, for niggas that ain't ever had shit Messed up, locked down, go on and grab shit Fred three, for niggas on lock without a key That ain't never comin' home, but you know how it be Livin' to die, but niggas ain't willin' to die If you bust up in the air, you ain't killin' the sky Feelin' the high, nigga is you willin' to lie You a crumb and you dumb, you ain't stealin' the pie I leave a bloody mess, nigga bigger then me, cut his neck Lox brothers, ya'll niggas is cock-suckers Yellow belly cowards, I want Money and the Power Assassin, you think it's a joke, you'll die laughing Hoppin' out the plane, and only bring the captain Start of a legacy, a hard broke down and start beggin' me Dog I'm a whole different pedigree Take me to the limit, I'm layin' in the cut While you playin' in the scrimage Meet you at the final Lyrically, I'm spiritually, drunkier then a winow Posion, house full of rhyme Bring your boys in Tell 'em take it easy, have a seat on the couch I'm the govenor, ya'll bitch niggas is crowds Take orders, we need passports at the border Transport the water, sheerest corner Fell sick to be hit, but we wasn't the cure Make your ear-drums pop, probably lick drop Eyes slinch up, leaves hit the foor by the time he spits up Nobody gets up Muthafuckas L-O-X muthafucka L-O-X, try this shit [Chorus: with ad-libs] From the top of New York, where they be poppin' they corks From the bottom of the slums, where they be poppin' they guns Niggas that rock whips and get plenty of one's But niggas goin' hand and hand, are havin' to run The niggas that had cake and got sent up state For the mother who lost the child and had to settle for weight For those who up out the ghetto, but don't know how to skate Guess you gotta live the life that has fallen to fate |
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
(feat. Big Pun, Noreaga)
Yeah nigga, thug that shit to your mother fuckin crib you heard Yeah! We tryin'to get this shit poppin' over here Huh, block party all that shit man "block party" Come over here nigga here Were is happening here's were is poppin' at baby, djayin' that shit [Noreaga] My nigga Rich nice told me an said get god You know the Kid Capri shit everybody is on The N.O.R. hit the mic just like I perform, I be hyped up New Balance kicks and hyped up Why you niggaz still acting like y'all niggaz is tough I got the one weed spot, that's' the Branson stuff Other niggaz talk about it but you see me with such And I'm thugged out catch me with the animal bunch Get head in the wip smoke animal blunts G's up hoes down nigga fuck them stuts, and I'll be flippin' You get a nice chick I like a chicken You don't believe me ask Bill Clinton Track master do that shit that y'all niggaz wouldn't And Kid Capri do that shit that you niggaz couldn't And I smoke green from Cali, I'm wild at the rally I'm ill like shack in the paint with the alley My nigga Big Pun will sit on y'all cats Ayo my nigga Kid Capri will shit on y'all tracks And we ain't got no love for y'all tracks We love big ass keys and y'all like little ass cracks [Kid Capri] I could rock a rhyme as quick as I could clock a knot Y'all niggaz clockin' mine, cus I'm getting lots of shine The Kid Capri could be the cat, that could change the face of rap Let me hear you trace the map, the Bronx is were the stations at The fake foes hangin' out with fake hoes Y'all 'spose to be the one that keep it Jumping Were you standing and frontin', the Black Italian Y'all chick better keep the smiling, from here to Boys Island Mother fuck all the stylin' Keep the hundred pallet or either sign that shit Y'all niggaz pay attention on ever rhyme I wet Is time legit to every time I get Y'all fools is straight falling off as I climb the jet The Kid Capri causing hating misery Number one for a while son check the history By the way all you talker pack what you got to say Cus you lacking every day, Pun make these rappers pay [Big Punisher] Ayo is your man from Puerto Rico That slaughter people like raw perico I'm for the people, five power not a total recall Look out your people on a blood shoot baby blues Look at my geezmo got shot and barely made it news How many crews I gotta run through when it comes through Getting raw I'm the predator, I'ma Hunt you Niggaz think is something sweet on the fuckin street But I'll be there busting my heat, when there's nuttin' to eat Fuck it I cheat cus that's the ghettos anthem I know the devils laughing every time he hears somebody's metal clappin' Ain't no napping in the city cus it never sleeps Wake up like what happen when I bust a cap on your feather geez I led at least a thousand caps, with a thousand raps With how many acts, actually ever really come out of wax Just a few I pull this track into best of view And turn the rest of y'all corn niggaz into vege-tables |
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
(diamond d)
*talking on a phone Yo capri, yo this is diamond, um.. Check it out um..i moved the session to next wednesday At 12 noon, plug me in at d&d, you'll be outta there by one o'clock Aiight? call me back and umm..give me confirmation. (sadat x) I'm ageless, pageless, only want me for that thing Hang up the phone, wants to let it ring Wit my gold chain, nothing as the hangin rope Who wanna stay in court plus knowin the fact that I'm smokey (lord jamar) Bust you in the back and play the low key Trustin in the fact that where I go, knowbody knows me Maybe then I'll go to where the weather is more suited to my taste And you got, uprooted in the first place (grand puba) I got the 'chelle fire, 'cause I get deeper than mya Stay on shorties domes like them beauty parlor dryers Want some verbal spit from the semi-auto lip Your whole body get hit, then you start dancin and *shit* (diamond d) And I'm the, overweight afro-diesiaic I only lick two and pass if your trees be black I leave the, promoters screamin "won't you please be back? " Detonating, till bell-bottom lee's come back Chorus Chorus (kid capri) So brand nu's, you can make it hot this year And diamond d, you can make it hot this year So brand nu's, you can make it hot this year And diamond d, you're rollin wit the kid capri Brand nu's you can make it hot this year And diamond d, we all can make it hot this year Brand nu's, you can make it hot this year And diamond d, you're rollin wit the kid capri (sadat x) Aight, now here's to y'all all and my new bronx address I'm out wit the old *shit*, got a brand new mattress Don't want no girl wit no flat chest How 'bout the one wit the ? pack less? I tickle you laugh, but I just got the math Over on park ave, off the concourse on ? She took two and, she could do it My whole crew got anger's wit them Similar to travellin, salesman hittin things from women Or whatever (lord jamar) Allah uhakbar, lord jamar spit in devil's face like roberto alomar Choke a phillie l like latrell sprewell Straight from the rochelle where the g-o-d's dwell I hope you didn't think that we fell We drink from the well, and it never runs dry So we never gon die We multiply wit mathematics, womens call us charismatic Smoke the aro-matic, too much, guess it's a habit Chorus (grand puba) Here me dog, 'cause a *nigga* ain't the run of the mill Blow up your body at will, like a chick on the pill I make it hot to death, swing it from right to left 'cause I talk so much *shit* I can taste it on my breath I got the head knock, keep rhyme flows under padlock Like comstock, wit more shoes than a foot locker And it don't stop, diamond d and brand nu Baggin more chickens than that *nigga* frank purdue (diamond d) No more domestication, on some over-seas *shit* Beat a *nigga ass* till he says "please quit" While you home alone marinatin on cheese sticks I'm in the back of the 'burban wit some chinese chicks Lookin at a map, one chick on my lap Tellin me how she was born in the year of the rap But by the time we reach the house, there's no waitin in fact All you see is ankles (yeah, what) from the front to the back Chorus (kid capri) Big shouts to my peoples all over uptown Big shouts to my peoples all over the world Brand nubian, big shouts to diamond d Big shouts to diggin in the crates It's the kid capri, and we puttin it down like that Straight hip-hop, straight to your mouth, word up I'm outta here |
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
Chorus/intro: krs-one (kid capri)
Do or die *echoes* (they know, know what I mean? ) Bring your clique, come on do or die *echoes* Bring your clique, bring your clique (do or die *echoes*) Bring your clique, bring your clique (come on) (krs-one) Yo, yo; I flash knowlegde not scandal Watch me dismantle your handle, lyrics like candles They burn on waxes in your sandle Microphone vandal, krs-one'll make em scamble When they gamble, I tear them like flannel You wanna battle? you'se a dreamer I put up my benz, you put up your beamer I guarantee ya, I leave ya standin with your beaper Double or nothing, you put up your sneakers and your megaspeakers You'll have no sound; while I'll be uptown in your adidas Don't mess with teachers we pray for peepers We no cheaters is rare, but we wax that Fair and square, don't even stare too long Or dare the wrong, I'm there and gone With a ? really simple? sing-a-long Chorus: kid capri and krs (kid) do or die, I'm sayin it's you and i (k&k) bring your clique, bring your clique *repeat 3x* (krs) yo, yo kid capri is the dopest Open up the door, let me come in the place Before you recognize the raw, yo, it's right in your face Just a little taste, yo I'm kinda nuts like planters The haters save your money cause this album is bananas! I'm flashin just a little style, for a little while Been flowin like the nile from when you was just a child Now it's ninety-eight, and I will not hesitate You'll be floatin in the lake, your not no heavyweight! Your lightweight, I devistate on the equal races No I'm not a racist, but no race could really face this I hate this, no I don't, you'll face kris, no you won't You know you broke cause what you want ain't really dope Like a billy goat, I ram your set like blaow! Who cares how you like me now, your on the ground Boogie-down, let me make one thing clear Bx, baby this is our year Try here and die here, superfly here As I threw my spear near, think what to do my dear I'm new and clear, my clarity's amazing Still blazin, played the low on occasion (kid capri) We make hotter, john blaze You niggas rockin in the wrong ways I make your head knock while the song plays Kid capri bombs bural (boom!) bombs thorough Now you know what you can vibe f**k talkin your mom's herald Let's make it happen, me and you rappin F**k wack raps, f**k where you sell your cracks at Its all good but your rap style seems to be common If ain't no real shit you don't need to be rhymin Chorus (krs-one) South bronx! I'm smaller, not bigger, drink water not liquor So I slaughter quick your lyric-lick, you move like a ninja I'm all up in your white blood My style is devestatin, your renovatin like hud What, you expect when I'm on the set Don't forget, I'm givin in cash and wreck You still ain't ready yet, better yet When I connect all y'all hit the deck! Heck, you might as well sign over that publishing check You ain't worth, my style is ugly and dirty If you ain't close to the thirty you really haven't heard of me But don't worry, hurry in the clubs I get wit em Got styles for the eighties, nineties, and the new millenium Only sucker mc's be like kris got some ish with him Because they can't get wit him, only the best sit wit him Cops don't be friskin him, gangs be enlistin him Nations be missin him, you really think you dissin him? Chorus |
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from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998)
Yeah once again presenting, kid capri
Ras kass the waterproof mc, punchline (ras kass) These faggot mcs be on skis with the microphone though But it's all downhill hitting trees like sonny bono Name a nigga I couldn't burn and he probably created the earth in six days I shot at jesus with a tech fives times Hanging the pope with six strings, the name is ras kass Might eat a little pussy but I don't kiss ass homeboy I'm righteous and wicked and this acquisition of riches is like Selling bean pods and still f**king white bicthes (punchline) I rap crazy, you better get fifty niggas to blaze me Or ace me, been rhyming since 220 ad You feel gazy? , I'm top ten with the raps Off the list you scratch, like serial numbers on gats I lace tracks with ill lines 20 bar rhymes My verses got long sentences like jail times Press rewind, listen to jams when I cool out I only f**k a bitch in the park if she juiced out Going new routes to maintain my composure Anticipated while you still screaming to get exposure Rap soldier in the cipher I'm first to set it My lyrics get the u.s. open without playing tennis (ras kass) Vindictive my voice pitch is beyond john blaze I'm john cremation, you conversation with aspirations Of me leaving blood stains from earth to venus Them so-called rap stars will still be living With they moma like an unborn fetus As soon as you step on stage i'ma destroy you with the truth Like the ricki lake show, don't come out the soundproof booth Or poof, plucked in your bubblegoose A lost angel, I strangle at an angle that's obtuse (punchline) Yo, my styles viscous, put niggas before bitches Collect riches, bone chickens without trickin And stay spitting mad rhymes in your direction Always repping get you open like seasections I rhyme greata set it off without jada My flava leave a nigga shook like vibrators Rap composer of the hit your styles over I make an mc cry just like robin on ophra Give you the cold shoulder guess who rhymes slicker I gross figures, shed light on shady niggas And write rhymes, roast niggas that take mine Gave birth to so many styles I should have my tubes tied One time, when rappers need concentration Embarrass I nigga, like getting caught masterbating I'm fascinating, I make you wallow in your sorrow Clutch the bottle you get your childish style fondled My rap tactics make you want to go home and practice Match this, drop jewels like biago rackis I come rough for all niggas that front I'm all that five mics and quotable for the month (ras kass) I be on some bullshit like the unamits and vigorous rhyming And until buchwhick bill starts dunking on kobe bryant I'm applying pressure, check out my melody The eighteenth letter, the first letter The nineteenth letter for cheddar And get a barrette explosive tip shredders to make the rum-redder To make the deader then coretta Scott king's husband who had a dream I get in you with no vaseline And burn rubber so I tap that ass like savion glover (punchline) That the sedative cause your shits repetitive And played out, tried to run game but it got rained out Wasn't thinking about this style until we came out Took a detour when some of y'all went the same route Thoughts about doing punchline make me tickle When my flow changes like pennies, dimes and nickels Organized rhymes we make the girls realize We humiliate niggas like a small dick size Now you wanna click nines, front and sip wines Take mine, can't mess with ras and punchline |
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| from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (1998) | |||||
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| from SEEDA - In The Moment (2011) | |||||
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| from Kid Capri - Soundtrack To The Streets (2000) | |||||
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 1 (Explicit Ver.) (2003) | |||||
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| from Dave East - Fortune Favors the Bold (2023) | |||||
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