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L.L. Cool J

Cutmaster C Mixtape

777 3 часа назад

Текст песни L.L. Cool J - Cutmaster C Mixtape

L.L. Cool J - Cutmaster C Mixtape слова песни

Intro:What you got to do with it? What the fuck you talkin about?What the fuck you got to do with it? You stupid nigga? You stupid?Did you see that video, nigga? Fuck wrong with you? Like you don`t,you don`t know what you go to do with it. Like your fuckin insane orsomething. (You fuckin wack ass nigga)(laughing in background)[Verse One]Y`all faggots is weak, y`all starstruck niggas think shit is sweetThat busy signal bullshit is dead up in the streetHeard that garbage dough jam, made me reminisceOn when heard your man`s wack shit and went to take up hisJealous faggot man cause I`m richer than y`allWhen I load my desertees, I`m picturin y`allOn the streets of Queens where I was raised and born, hardcoreAnd stood on every corner like a liquor storeClips full of hollowtips, follow loose lipsAimin at your clique and make em cough up my chipsBitch, ya niggas wanna see if I`m ill?Wanna see how many rappers can be killed, how much blood can spill?When I inject this lyrical drill, if I can`t do it, the dumb-dumbs willTell that nigga to tell his man to tell that niggaI send the wolves to kill that niggaIf you wanna know why, its cause I`m still that niggaMichael Jordan of all this rap shit, pullin the triggerWhat the fuck? You on a mission to self-destructAnd have the nerve to let the chickenhead model cluckYour swervin nigga, better follow the white linesYour up on the sidewalk, off course, read the signI`m so ill, y`all niggas is so wackYour whole crew is such, y`all lack the hard impactFar as your man go, I got young niggas that wanna get himTreat him like a Philly, wet`im and split`imChorusL.L. don`t lose niggas, we can do it however you choose niggaOne on one or round up the crews niggaBut Can-I-Blast you out your shoes niggaYou know the rules nigga!*repeat*[Verse Two]Queens shit, give me cream so I can grab my dickSew that shit, what the fuck y`all niggas workin with?Backwards, ass-jerk, jumpin up out the woodworkRidin my meat, tryin to critique my physiqueA real nigga wouldn`t even mention my lipsCan`t believe you went there, no I know you a bitchSugar-coated nigga, deep-throated niggaYoung guns take a pull before they quote a niggaYeah, I wrote it nigga for all my real live devoted niggasI`m a true and livin lyrically ill poet niggaSo what you talkin bout? That shits supposed to be hot?Y`all niggas on the warpath, y`all takin over my block?I think not, matter of fact your not aloud to rap no moreAnd if you hear this in the club sneak out the backdoorAnd if you bumpin in your ride make sure your windows is up and your tint`s passed the limitSo they don`t know a faggot`s in it!I`m L.L. and I did this to youTeflon waitin for every nigga runnin with youRhymes hit you, lace you up again and split youNiggas ain`t official thats why Mom Dukes miss youTell your man bring it on, I`m only gettin warmNever die, never quit, and my money`s longPunk ass crab nigga, talkin bout his lipsConstantly involvin my name with that bullshit!Why I diss you? You stepped up in the ringIce jinglin in the video like you the next Don KingAnd tell your man I know he got some lyrics in the stashBut I`m the best that ever did it, now get this motheruckin assMic`s too hot to hold, leave it in the sandSo I can describe the picture with both handsYou must not understand who`s in commandI got all the flavor, but y`all niggas is mad blandChorus[Verse Three]I`ll cut your fuckin head off and leave it on your mom`s dresserThen pay the pope a hundred thou to go and bless herYou wanna test a lyrical teacher and professor?I bet y`all niggas fall off now that your under pressureI don`t stress ya, yet still I must check yaExtort niggas for gettin fucked up, stop and inspect yaFuck wrong with you nigga? You can`t do nothin to meIf I put a slug in you on the low, you`d probably try to sue meYour girl blew me, I said "Now!" She said "Do me"Bust a nut in her face on tape to let the crew seeCan`t put dirt roll, nigga poppin shitUnderestimantin what Queens niggas`ll do for chipsI originated all this shitThe ice, the champagne, the bitches on the dickThat really don`t apply to you crabs in a barrelMic`s my staff sendin you a message like Pharaoh

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