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Beatnuts, The Musical Massacre Slam Pit - Feat. Cuban Link And Common [cuban link] "i'm hard to kill, for real, nigga guard your grill" --> cuban link Yo, yo, yo flipmode is how this nigga roll Finger on the trigger low, quick to lick a shot for that bigger pot of gold Lock and load, my heavy metal rock and rolls If you gotta go you gotta go, that's part of the show My heart is cold like a nautica nailin niggaz like carpenters Stalkin the hardest squadrons, spark em from new york to arkansas Watchin the projects is how i got my logic Economics is pickin pockets then we split the profit The only shit i pop is what my glock spit Watch for the cops since we spark the chocolate Cause the blocks are hotter than the fuckin tropics In topless bars, college girls with no bras My whole squad got blow jobs smokin godfather cigars Live large like scarface, parlayin to far place No car chasin, she's watchin all the stars in space Safe and sound in my playground with my tre pound Got eighty rounds just in case clowns wanna play around I lay it down for them non-believers Them non-achievin niggaz that wanna be leaders but can never beat us Y'all better greet us if you ever see us (word up) Ts, beatnuts, double up, but grab your motherfuckin heaters Sample interlude --slammin mc's on cement-- --the beats, the nuts-- --got you froze like gun point-- [juju] --it's the hard-little pistol packin-- It's the control freak, leave you with a whole in your cheek Worst attitude in rap, ju stay in the streets I gotta eat, the only thing i'm playin is keeps Your beats cost a lotta money but they sound real cheap You sound weak, anemic, like you get no sleep Fuckin with me, you outta your mind? get outta your jeep Ya know i'm gonna beat you till the police come And tell niggaz who the fuck i got that roly from [psycho les] --psycho les-- Yeah, ugh, what...jump out the rover and let you know its over And grab you with a crowbar and snap you in a coma Drug you with my music son, you'll never sober While your chicks on my --boing-- on a leather soafer Chillin there, iced out billionaire In war clothes blastin as i blast led through your versace wardrobe What! motherfuckers --slammin mc's on cement-- Ugh [common] --common sense, common's tellin ya-- Picture a king, with heater, holy book, and big rings Real nigga doin big things interpreting dreams Off the jim bean, ain't shit sweet for sixteens My gods got the block sewn to the inseam I'm on the other side, trying to get green So i fash and trash that ass at least a day Warrin with self i battle, the middle eastern way Bring heat like the months, that's east of may Casket in the road and saw a new school that knows the old This memory i hold the scroll, my flow is a road...less traveled You rock, but been through less gravel My mystique suggest battle and what have you Rip a nigga from new york to west coast, chicago Don't give a fuck where he from he'll get beat like a drum Till this rap goes numb, seekin the hot medusa from circulation I strangle this string music, and suffocate a drum Wanted to be a star till i seen i was the sun/son Got my weight up like pun Improvise to get ass, emphasize to get passed Fuck a mic check, i bring my flow in cash Talkin to fade |
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