Rasta Imposter (Wycelf Jean & Canibus Diss) lyrics

Intro:
What you got to do with it? What the f*ck you talkin about?
What the f*ck you got to do with it? You stupid n*gga? You stupid?
Did you see that video, n*gga? f*ck wrong with you? Like you don't
You don't know what you go to do with it. Like your f*ckin insane or
Something. (You f*ckin wack ass n*gga)
(laughing in background)

[Verse One]
Y'all faggots is weak, y'all starstruck n*ggas think sh*t is sweet
That busy signal bullsh*t is dead up in the street
Heard that garbage dough jam, made me reminisce
On when heard your man's wack sh*t 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
b*tch, ya n*ggas 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 n*gga to tell his man to tell that n*gga
I send the wolves to kill that n*gga
If you wanna know why, its cause I'm still that n*gga
Michael Jordan of all this rap sh*t, pullin the trigger
What the f*ck? You on a mission to self-destruct
And have the nerve to let the chickenhead model cluck
Your swervin n*gga, better follow the white lines
Your up on the sidewalk, off course, read the sign
I'm so ill, y'all n*ggas is so wack
Your whole crew is such, y'all lack the hard impact
Far as your man go, I got young n*ggas that wanna get him
Treat him like a Philly, wet'im and split'im
Chorus
L.L. don't lose n*ggas, we can do it however you choose n*gga
One on one or round up the crews n*gga
But Can-I-Blast you out your shoes n*gga
You know the rules n*gga!
*repeat*

[Verse Two]
Queens sh*t, give me cream so I can grab my di*k
Sew that sh*t, what the f*ck y'all n*ggas workin with?
Backwards, ass-j*rk, jumpin up out the woodwork
Ridin my meat, tryin to critique my physique
A real n*gga wouldn't even mention my lips
Can't believe you went there, no I know you a b*tch
Sugar-coated n*gga, deep-throated n*gga
Young guns take a pull before they quote a n*gga
Yeah, I wrote it n*gga for all my real live devoted n*ggas
I'm a true and livin lyrically ill poet n*gga
So what you talkin bout? That sh*ts supposed to be hot?
Y'all n*ggas 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 n*gga runnin with you
Rhymes hit you, lace you up again and split you
n*ggas 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 n*gga, talkin bout his lips
Constantly involvin my name with that bullsh*t!
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 n*ggas is mad bland
Chorus

[Verse Three]
I'll cut your f*ckin 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 n*ggas fall off now that your under pressure
I don't stress ya, yet still I must check ya
Extort n*ggas for gettin f*cked up, stop and inspect ya
f*ck wrong with you n*gga? 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, n*gga poppin sh*t
Underestimantin what Queens n*ggas'll do for chips
I originated all this sh*t
The ice, the champagne, the b*tches on the di*k
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 f*ck wrong wit y'all n*ggas? You out your mind n*gga?
You better try to go beg Lauryn to come back or something
f*ck wrong with you?

Chorus

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