| Lyrics: | [guru]
First and foremost, some rappers are sweet like fructose
When i cock back these
lyrics, y'all punks best be ghost
I be the seven twenty-one, eighteen twenty-one
The illest
one, i'm almost doper than anyone
Straight out the late nights of bed-stuy
Steppin up, y'all
put your weapons up, i make heads fly
You're artificial like saccarhin
You're crazy fake,
it's more than skills you be lackin in
Concepts you bite, cause your identity ain't
tight
Tryin to be somethin you're not, like pullin a knife at a gunfight
I'm troopin on
night air like flight number 106
And gettin all up in your fuckin mix
You get me upset, and
i got you uptight
Cause my committee's in your city tonight, aight?
We got seventeen million
of us plus, two million indians
That makes 19 mil, lightin shit up like wild bill
I be the,
supreme father plus the ill kid with drama
My karma, creates the teflon to pierce your body
armor
And make sure you check the shit before you walk to me, or talk to me
Steppin to me
improperly, you just may catch the weaponry
My specialty is tearin tracks out the frame
You
know my fuckin name, i rule all game
I'm universal on all planes, what's your
claim?
[guru]
Yo, i be your highness, in slickness, you chumps bear
witness
Tremendous tropper, verbal nigga witht he fitness
Drop you for your spot with the
blazer then i blast ya
Slice precise like ?fenny hanas? when i come to bring the
dramas
Styles so swift, that you can't peep the god
As your lyrics get buried, six feet deep
in my backyard
I laugh hard, while your mental i run through mazes
Dark stages of terror to
shatter your dressing room mirror
Your whole error gets crushed, your whole show gets
bumrushed
Too many |
