Susi: F major•
Intro 1
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Dm
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Verse 1
it's such an unbelievable pleasure
For you to treasure,
and much needed too
Making fat though, on another plateau
You've been needing to get in the groove
I do it natural,
as we get jazzy with glassy shit
To make them hard ass rappers
wanna blast me
Cause I exemplify your pimpified mac and actin' like this shit,
nigga, matchin' rappers with the passion
When they contempt the drive,
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flashin' lyrics, I snatch your spirits
Like a big disappointment,
but this here shit will surprise you, devise a plan
A pimp squeaks, shit's weak,
cause the size of the man
So if you wanna measure up,
then press your luck
Cause when I'm in the cut, man,
there ain't no catchin' up
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I bet you never heard a nigga with a bigger wrist flow,
bigger this flow
Gettin' ate like a clitoris,
no, I never coulda seen it
I rip a rapper's balls off to make
him scream when it's convenient
Hear ye, hear ye, clearly we're the undisputed
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ones that you get mad at when you hear me
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Popper's cop just barely even
registered on the meter
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Cause we the niggas that they checking for,
me and you are
You and him, ruining them,
you and men in when I'm queuing him in
On the one and two and three and four
Y 'all niggas know I got lyrics out the anal
And any move that you make
could be fatal
The poet that shows it and some of y 'all niggas blow
it when you grab the mic and you can't recite
You know that gets me irate
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But wait, y 'all niggas think that
I'm your running mate?
Nah, fuck that,
cause when I get the baton I'm gone
All around the track like
a running maniac
You're babbling, you're babbling,
son, what the fuck?
Anybody can grab the gun and go buck
But can you grab the mic
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and kick dill shit?
Stun them with the verbs
instead of using flips
Check it, I flip styles by the dozen
I could even do things that you thought I was,
but I wasn't
UMCs are slipping into rigor mortis
Give it up, please, and just abort this
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I got styles that are legendary,
Poetic reality, what the fuck you think?
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D -E -L, so whack the hell with
L
I never come from the tomb
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Your rap's poor, I'm on track,
I'll lap yours
Collapse yours, elapse forever
You're never gonna get better
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Biting my friend, but I lend a hand
MC's yelping like puppies, their rhymes are supple,
my rhymes are rough though
Like a duffel bag, mags on my wheels,
squeal peel out toward your head
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While others bust lead, that's dead
I beat your head in the resonant,
then my pipe hits the buds in my chamber
My rhymes are never tamer,
perpetrators,
I'ma hurt you later
After, on the path to danger
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I got fangs, not bangs,
like the bitch witch I used to punch
Or with punctuation and mutation
Racing like my thoughts with shots
that scatter at my ladder
Let's be elevates over
emcees that are hella fake
My reaction to your rapping is laughin'
Half -bends are askin' to
get their ass kicked
Cause you're plastic
I'm bringin' lyrical lacerations
that you're tastin'
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Painful, I may pose metaphorically
Historically used in hip -hop to
make your neck pop
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Kick the modem style
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When you've wrapped a mic
and you can't recite, recite
Grab the mic and you can't be psyched,
be psyched
You can't be psyched, be psyched
You
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