Rap n*gga lyrics

[Verse 1: Big Sant]
I rap n*gga
And I ain't talking about gift giving
I'm talking about living the gift of spitting
Riddle my competition with ammunition no pistol could emit
Still enough to leave 'em missing
I'm suggesting that you listen, closely, most folks is phoney
Greet you like the homie and later act like you don't know me
Throw your name in the middle like Monie over money
Think it's funny 'til you find yourself crashing over dummies
They asking for me to spit, I tell them n*ggas to rap
Night of the Living Dead I'm existing off naps
I don't bicker with b*tches or b*tch ass n*ggas in fact
Wanna hang in Mississippi I can give you some slack
Kicking chest from under other rap n*ggas you wack
I'll lay my game flat you can have your spot back
Caught that ass slipping now I'm swimming in your misses
Like I'm white water rafting, coming up for air gasping
She suck it like a vaccuum, I ain't even ask for it
I keep her at the bottom like my Mac dashboard
Wanna keep your baby momma better Honda Passport it
To the closest ATM, this is real life extortion
With real life results for trill minds of course
Dead conversation, and pile up the corpse
But I'm miles away from Davis Street
That's where I cooked up the first batch of bad luck for any that challenge me
Gap tooth, fat n*gga, rap like an athlete
Hogging up lanes cause there ain't no passing me
For real, say the wrong thing and get slapped
Who said n*ggas from the south can't rap?
b*tch
[Verse 2: King Mez]
Giving them words about the south we make them pay attention
Went from hearing about them now and then to everyday they mention
Yeah
And how these record labels trade positions
Moving they offices so they closer to the Mason Dixon
How that happen? All the credit from rapping
Supposed to go to the n*gga with the northern accent and the Yankees jacket
But n*gga see now, try to front and you senile
Better believe we got the key now, for real
I'm on stage and a n*gga light up, on instrumentals black out
Opening any shows can make your headliner back out
On celebrating achievements later talking with Rap 'bout
I'll only floss a little, I won't be pulling no plaque out
Cause lil' n*ggas in my city often hold the mac out
Teach them 'bout onomatopoeia they can tell you blackat!
Blackat! Blackat! Blackat! Now that that's out
Is money worthless with no purpose, just service so backout
Aye y'all be talking 'bout somebody changing
I put money up, I leave the game from the door I came in
Too many rap n*ggas lame so I speak in layman's
I speak my hieroglyphics, no one to decipher my paintings
So what's the point of me aiming?
Yeah
You rappers praying, say "Amen"
And thank God for existing
In that ignorant lane that I be letting you stay in
For real
[Verse 3: Tito Lopez]
My real rap n*ggas know what this is
Down south n*gga
Still influenced by the Nas, Biggies and Kiss's
Vicious on the mic, that's an understatement
Cause I do on accident when you n*ggas would call flagrant
That mean I hit the hardest b*tch and I ain't even trying
Ain't even lying, n*ggas hate me, they even crying
Like how the hell he get a record deal? He ain't had no buzz
Don't worry 'bout it ho that's what Lo' does
Been 10 years since you heard a motherf*cker this nasty
b*tches be catching orgasms just from walking past me
They tricks, just like every ho up in the hood
Taking di*ks, and I ain't talking no sporting goods
I'd be rich, if I did what all these n*ggas is doing
But history I'm pursing so miss me with all that lame sh*t
Danger from the start, got anger in my heart
Switchblade make ya b*tch-made n*gga play your part
It's southside 'til I die, that's a part of me
Car bomb flow, I know they wish they never started me
Gassed up in that Nav truck needing fast bucks
Got a lot but need a little mo' like an old Fab cut
Have but one job, represent the mob
G-P-T, flex and get your ass robbed
Now tell the truth, you ain't seen a n*gga aspire
A bad liar, swell up your jaw, Quagmire
I pass by ya, three tires and a donut
My backside dipping like so what
Never let me slip cause if I slip then I'm slipping
But when I get on this mic you n*ggas know I'm straight tripping
Ripping
And I'm not just a rapper, I'm really just starting
I wear many hats like Cole on Martin
If you see me, know I got them underdogs with me
And I'm steady screaming Mississippi
Tito Lopez
[Verse 4: Phonte]
I'm giving n*ggas a crash course
On how to take it back to the asphalt
We the task force, ready to blast off
And eat a n*ggas face like Pac Man on bath salt
Another plane another stamp in the passport
Another marble mouth n*gga with a glass jaw
I say listen up, Hip Hop been in the south
n*gga loosen up the straps on your Jansport
And let 'em know what I stand for
Raw Carolina n*ggas spit butane
Tigallo sing a hook like Lou Rawls
Turn around and kick fly sh*t like Liu Kang
If they ain't got a budget I ain't budging
Get your paper cousin, maybe we can do thangs
I spit game for them n*ggas that's a slave to the rhythm
And slave to they bills dawg, two chains
Riding 'round and I'm getting it
Carolina bound and I'm living it
So now you might wanna gather round your constituents
Play along, say the wrong thang get slapped
Who said n*ggas from the south can't rap
n*gga