Talking sh*t lyrics

by

MF DOOM


[Intro]
Hey yo, back the f*ck back, n*gga
I love my n*ggas
Steezy

[Verse 1: Capital STEEZ]
(And my n*ggas love me)
Damn, and the saga continues
So stand still when I slide on the venue
Since middle school been on point with this pencil
Respect it, he stay sharper than Ginsus
What's on the menu? Crabs in a basket
You make it somewhere and they just grabbin' you back in
Amateur rappers and their mans wanna battle
And turn pale in the face like they last name Jackson
I admit, it was early for that
We still embarrassin' and damagin' the burliest cats
But on a higher note J. STEEZ play keys
You can tell by the respect that I have earned in the trap
See some say he the hottest in his class
The rest talk trash, I acknowledge it and laugh
Jockin' on my swag put the product in a bag
Since Erlenmeyer I learned to put the fire to the flask
And came through with that crack spit
New to the league straight ballin' off a draft pick
You can tell all them amateurs that you rappin' with
That I been going rampant since I came into this rapping sh*t
Staying passionate
Wrapping my hand around any rapper in my caliber coming after it
Don't think they got the pamphlet and the manuscript
But every style of art they crafted I mastered it
So bow down to your sensei I been paid
Young boss since the tenth grade
Now I see through flows, like water
I'm flyer than C3P0 and Skywalker
[Verse 2: Joey BADA$$]
Too much west coast di*k lickin', too many n*ggas
Gettin' caught slippin', knittin' mittens into kissin' kittens
Too many chickens wanna be pigeons, sh*ttin' over
Stadiums, and leave it drippin' on your cranium
Too many n*ggas think they gon' blow like Arabians
Thinkin' they gon' eat next like Drake, no Canadian
The best in the universe put you in a hearse
If I don't get my space like alien, the kid is fire, don't play with him
The fam used to baby him because he was the youngest
He made a few adjustments and then proved that he wasn't dumbest
I keep the fly-est chicks with the flattest stomachs
Claim they just wanna get high, but on the low, they be down to suck it
And I'm not the one to f*ck with, but f*ck it
Leave the ruckus to a musket if you punk n*ggas can't take the judgment
They love it, do a couple shows and I collect my hundred
It barely budge my budget but it ain't nothin' I stay stuntin'
They stay frontin' like I'm at the back, rear door
Because I'm real though, and I've always been a weirdo n*gga
A young Caesar but he never kept his hair low
The dear flow flows through ear flows explodes earlobes
And therefo' I remain the Pharoah
Sittin' on my royal chair, ho, with a gold-adorned sombrero
Came through I jacked the throne, you know the troop style
Let's sit em' down, and crown him like a root canal, b*tch
We some bad ass motherf*ckers, n*gga
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net