Bustin', the twenty-thirteen Illmatic
The thirty-plus T espasin' it, yo I heard 'em say
"He's a has-been," the trippin' turns crip the tragic
When the turtle out-thinks the rabbit
But for the right deep and passion, fertile like seeds turn the tide
So you identify or certify classic
Murder per accident, I was just practicing rhythm, my raps
The vernacular, there was rhymin'- beware of the shrapnel
This here is an animal riven its mandible
Setting its venom as well as these compared to a Labrador
This here's honor roll, the legend has gotta go
I means a rappin' a verse shoot you square it's like lavender oil
Back on my art of a oratory
I'm known for bringing a business like a bungalow corner store
Catch your laces and bungee cord back to your mamma's corner
I ignite 'em and burn anyone gas bomb orders
Fuck the chorus, I'm just going instru' punching the chord
While the lawyers huntin' for my missin' publishing forms
Missus droppin' the daughter mission get campus for
How my vision went from nappy nigga to napkin with a fork
I'm munchin' like a screen rap
Fuckin' on beanbags, watch as they'll call me back for a rematch
'Cause I put the pipe down like rehab
Tea-baggin' the hunnies in your video-scene, ha!
Meanwhile we back at Motif labs
Putting bars on C-Max killing possie drags
'Cause back when you were dancin' and lean' back
I had you time five yellow like the Chinese flag
Fuck all these radio re-tracks
Get Radio Raheem trying to radio evac'
Tease back to fuck up your sum of: the game needs that
An' that E-class memory seat-back
Went from calf of the rich black, call that decaff
And still hot even with the AC max
Big fat motherfucker, no six-pack
Leave tracks in your head that won't let you relax
(Goddamn)
You'd be number one
[?]
Ungh, it's twenty-fourteen but really
It's the minute after I take off, beam
And leave a lotta 'ittle 'em outta the way
More people livin' when the killing starts
Adolf Hitler kind of fashion
Huge swastika, my swass stick a the gas
Rippin' an ass of your top-notch, whether he's real or not
Jew get a ticket to watch them pissing their pants
Witness a massacre, bam bam, with a sickle and hammer
I'm Joseph Stalin on 'em, don't gotta want 'em, dane 'em
I'm performin', name on the jumbo-tron as a forerunner
The audience want a encore, they calling out
For all of them no response, call a coroner
Heard no feedback at back to the CD
Go there, ski-mask robbin' the children, I'm rappin', I'm killin'
What on the streets, now we soft at Motif
An' I can sing if Rihanna believe it, how's that for a reason?
'Cause I keep my children perf', my kid X
The real deal keenin' my youngsters of the master
Know some others that are too broke, hands up
I call the answer if you question our standards
Yeah, this enigmatic with a little added thing about it
Your rappin' dignitary wishin' he had it
Anybody nappin', sleepin', get the pink blankets
City rabid, don't think of battlin', I'm really a rabid
Sickly dog, spittin' raw like the symptoms are showing
Takin' one, kill an army without liftin' an arm
T is gone, I'm mean rappin' nigga, not really gone
Should be on, it's like to infinity and beyond
Come see the boss if your Buzz like my [?] and lawn
Full on for a budget for a couple of songs
Fuckin' award like whitey from [?]
Pump shots, top of the ball, no guns just metaphors
Don't touch, or get knuckled up, bunched at the door
Flow enough, fix your bubble lines with spike claws
Sober up and discuss facts like once more
Who hold the crime? The artist formerly Fatboy
I said that you would be number one
[?]
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
