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| Beatnuts Miscellaneous No Equal [ VERSE 1: Ju-Ju ] Niggas got me steamin, bout to flip my lid Fuck around, and I proceed to blow your back out, kid (Boom!) Not to say I'm on a violent tip But my hand stays on my gun, in case you start some shit Cause I been rhymin since way back when Straight up and from the heart is how it's always been Now punk niggas wanna test me But all that tiggedy-tiggedy tongue-twistin shit don't impress me It's just a phase, and you know damn well That you'll fall off in a minute, cause that shit don't sell Funny how you think you could surpass me, or outlast me With that bullshit style, you're fallin fast, gee See, I suggest you go back where you came from (Your mic, and my mic) Come on, don't play, son See, the days of payin dues is over I'm a little fed up, and it's time that I show ya We battle one time, you're dead, no sequel (Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal) --> Q-Tip You know we're number one Competition is none [ VERSE 2: Psycho Les ] The wiggedy-wicked Psycho Les drops it like a lunatic Steady back-breakin bitches with my super dick Hat's on the jim, sometimes I nut in em St. Ides fucks up their eyes, and I bend em Down, while I'm flowin to this nutty sound Open up the knapsack, check out what we found H-h-horns, bass, lines Beats get chopped in the Nut Shop, we don't waste time Yo, I'm 'cold lampin' like Flavor Floatin at the top while you're sick, and 'nothin can save ya' Just like the Biz said Remember - uugh! - styles I drop to be, what is it? (The shizzit) Word to your mama I bend your girl like a comma Due to Lambada, I think I gotta Stop, because the bitch said, "(???)" So I nutted, and I got out (Boom!) No matter how hot you claim to be, you can't roast this Nut, what's up? You wanna get eaten up like a hostess? 'Cup', 'cake', you know my words are lethal (Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal) [ VERSE 3: Fashion (Al' Tariq) ] Every line I connect, my literature's perfect Per minute, per second, and yo, you gotta reck- On with Fashion, cause by the way I'm rippin things Whoever thinks I take a loss has hamstrings Young dames, I shoot em and Jimmy aims to knock her Sex with this flex, best thing tends to lock up Yeah, really bad ass, smokin past you niggas The chicks I stick shit with, I love your figures Triggers, I pull em with no remorse for bodies Fash pumps the hotties, chumps pump with shoties Shoot em up, bang-bang! Miss targets rarely Mics I touch up, I fucks em daily Barely another who can test the cool Fash Asses I kick in the ashes, dumpin trashes So don't riff, cause I flow swift like the Nile, son Tame is for plain Jane fame, I'm a wild one Auto-matic-ly I let loose the Fierce MC-i-n-g force in me Cool Fash, sendin a blast to rap people (Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal) |
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