 |
| LL Cool J Miscellaneous Rasta Imposter [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 or something. (You fuckin wack ass nigga) [laughing in background] [Verse One] Y'all faggots is weak, y'all starstruck niggas think shit is sweet That busy signal bullshit is dead up in the street Heard that garbage dough jam, made me reminisce On when heard your man's wack shit and went to take up his Jealous faggot man cause I'm richer than y'all When I load my desertees, I'm picturin y'all On the streets of Queens where I was raised and born, hardcore And stood on every corner like a liquor store Clips full of hollowtips, follow loose lips Aimin at your clique and make em cough up my chips Bitch, 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 will Tell that nigga to tell his man to tell that nigga I send the wolves to kill that nigga If you wanna know why, its cause I'm still that nigga Michael Jordan of all this rap shit, pullin the trigger What the fuck? You on a mission to self-destruct And have the nerve to let the chickenhead model cluck Your swervin nigga, better follow the white lines Your up on the sidewalk, off course, read the sign I'm so ill, y'all niggas is so wack Your whole crew is such, y'all lack the hard impact Far as your man go, I got young niggas that wanna get him Treat him like a Philly, wet'im and split'im [Chorus] L.L. don't lose niggas, we can do it however you choose nigga One on one or round up the crews nigga But Can-I-Blast you out your shoes nigga You know the rules nigga! [repeat] [Verse Two] Queens shit, give me cream so I can grab my dick Sew that shit, what the fuck y'all niggas workin with? Backwards, ass-jerk, jumpin up out the woodwork Ridin my meat, tryin to critique my physique A real nigga wouldn't even mention my lips Can't believe you went there, no I know you a bitch Sugar-coated nigga, deep-throated nigga Young guns take a pull before they quote a nigga Yeah, I wrote it nigga for all my real live devoted niggas I'm a true and livin lyrically ill poet nigga So 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 more And if you hear this in the club sneak out the backdoor And if you bumpin in your ride make sure your windows is up and your tint's passed the limit So they don't know a faggot's in it! I'm L.L. and I did this to you Teflon waitin for every nigga runnin with you Rhymes hit you, lace you up again and split you Niggas ain't official thats why Mom Dukes miss you Tell your man bring it on, I'm only gettin warm Never die, never quit, and my money's long Punk ass crab nigga, talkin bout his lips Constantly involvin my name with that bullshit! Why I diss you? You stepped up in the ring Ice jinglin in the video like you the next Don King And tell your man I know he got some lyrics in the stash But I'm the best that ever did it, now get this motheruckin ass Mic's too hot to hold, leave it in the sand So I can describe the picture with both hands You must not understand who's in command I got all the flavor, but y'all niggas is mad bland [Chorus] [Verse Three] I'll cut your fuckin head off and leave it on your mom's dresser Then pay the pope a hundred thou to go and bless her You wanna test a lyrical teacher and professor? I bet y'all niggas fall off now that your under pressure I don't stress ya, yet still I must check ya Extort niggas for gettin fucked up, stop and inspect ya Fuck wrong with you nigga? You can't do nothin to me If I put a slug in you on the low, you'd probably try to sue me Your girl blew me, I said "Now!" She said "Do me" Bust a nut in her face on tape to let the crew see Can't put dirt roll, nigga poppin shit Underestimantin what Queens niggas'll do for chips I originated all this shit The ice, the champagne, the bitches on the dick That really don't apply to you crabs in a barrel Mic's my staff sendin you a message like Pharaoh Leave it alone or get swallowed in the sea The King of Hiphop is something you could never be My crown you'll never see, I'll rule forever, G I'll be goin platinum when you just a memory I'm the double L, capital C, double O With the seven upside down jakes slayin the clown What the fuck wrong wit y'all niggas? You out your mind nigga? You better try to go beg Lauryn to come back or something Fuck wrong with you? [Chorus] |
Videos
|
Add
All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics provided for educational purposes only.
Copyright © 2007-2009 LyricWorld.com, LoiNhac.com
© 2009 lyricworld.com, loinhac.com are two of a family of companies in the LmVN Group.