Got something important to say? Then make it stand out by using the jumbo headline option and get your visitor’s attention right away.
I got lots of love for my crew, that is;
No love for them other crews and rival kids.
All them out-of-town niggas know what time it is,
And if they don’t? They need to buy a watch, word up.
I use a pick in my hair without force.
You use a lawn mower–you got peat moss.
Now who done passed you a diaper and got you thinkin’ you the shit?
I seen her on the ave, spotted her more than once.
Ass so fat that you could see it from the front…
I smoked with a lot of college students…
Most of em wasn’t graduatin, and they knew it.
Run from the police, picture that,
Nigga I’m too fat…
I fuck around and catch a asthma attack.
You ask me, “Did I like Arsenio?”
About as much as the Bicentennial.
Said she loved my necklace, started relaxin’.
Now that’s what the fuck I call a chain reaction!
I never let the worst things in life get the best of me.
So take these testes and, ummm…open sesame.
You’re out of luck like two dogs stuck.
I’m on some satanic shit, strictly.
Little kids be wakin up cryin, yellin,
‘Mommy, Big L is comin to get me!’
I’m from back then, bro, when the phrase was “fresh.”
…When Michael Jackson’s nose looked like KRS.
I’m hooked on gin and tonics like your mama’s Hooked on Phonics
You ain’t a gangsta, you a bitch with a beat.
When I die, bury me butt naked and face down in the grass
So I can fuck the world while y’all kiss my ass
You can’t take the heat, get ya ass out the kitchen
Matter fact, take ya ass back in there and wash the dishes
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue.
It’s not like honey dip would wanna get with me,
But just in case I own more condoms than TLC.
I’m so def, I need a hearing aid with an equalizer.
Why fuck with these cornball rappers when you can have the real thing?
I heard you rhyme a few times, each time you blew it.
You’re soft, you can’t go off, I knew it.
Let’s be realistic, I’m not egotistic;
But you, your crew…just not that artistic.
Point blank: your song stank.
I know you want the truth, so let’s be frank.
And when I smiled, ‘Bing!’ I almost blinded her.
She said, ‘Great Scot, are you a thief?
Seems like you have a mouth full of gold teeth!’
Hahahaha, had to find that funny,
So I said, ‘No child, I work hard for the money.
And calling me a thief? Please…don’t even try it,
Sit down, eat your slice of pizza, and be quiet.’
Whoever underestimated, still waited,
Pumping the radio, finally they played it.
You wondered how come the album was late?
I was giving you time to get the last one straight.
Before you try to fuck with Ren,
I’ll put two in your ass and you’ll be shittin’ a size 10.
I bake your ass like a cake and all y’all flakes get frosted.
Brothers ain’t shit,
So don’t honk your horn, keep rolling.
No, I don’t wanna ride cause the shit might be stolen.
Anyway, I know your number:
You got a ‘Gas, Grass or Ass’ sticker on your bumper.
You know how it go when you got no dough:
Niggas goin out to party and you got no clothes.
And when you do get clothes, then you can’t go out
That’s the bullshit I’m talkin’ about.
I mastered The Art of War before a nigga read Sun Tzu,
Third degree black-belt, master of Gun-Fu.
Pop pills, smoke weed, even get drunk too;
And you do what you can, and I do what I want to.
Niggas’ rap albums sound like love letters,
Pen in my hand, like: damn, fam, I could do much better.
My style is strong like hard lumber;
Cute chicks get the dick,
Ugly bitches get the wrong number.
I never gave a rat’s ass or a flyin’ fuck…
Drivin’ drunk in a fire truck with the siren stuck,
Slammin’ the brakes, skiddin’ out cause the tires suck.
Went to pull you off my dick and got the pliers stuck.
You better run, cause I’m probably the only one
Crazy enough to shoot your ass with a knife and stab you with a gun.
Now Joe wanna be like Bob,
Bob got it goin’ on with no job.
And everything Rob got he got from Robin,
And everything she got, she got ho-hoppin’.
My girl Jilly wanna be like Jackie,
Fat rope chains and I think that’s wick-wacky.
Tom and Dick wanna be like Harry,
Little do they know he’s bitin’ on Barry…
Want to know my occupation, home location, and means of transportation?
The correct combination unlocked your placenta…
I got a cellular phone with a rubber antenna,
And a 3-story house, drive a 4-door Ac.
Favorite song of all time? Mobb Deep’s ‘Hit It From the Back’
I don’t know why y’all so highly regarded;
You rhyme like you’re borderline mildly retarded.
I hope you get a paper cut on your tongue
From a razor in a paper cup.
I hope every soda you drink’s already shaken up.
I hope your dreams dry like raisins in the baking sun.
I hope your titties’ all saggy in your early 20s.
I hope there’s always snow in your driveway.
I hope you never get off Fridays…
And you work at a Friday’s that’s always busy on Fridays.
I’m just a bastard with a bad habit,
Bad back, in a black Volkswagen Rabbit
…Shit, I gotta have it.
Black magic woman put a spell on me;
Fuck around and win a spelling bee.
I could walk under ladders, still win the lotto.
Ten minutes flat: built a boat in a bottle.
You see y’all got it all wrong like women in tuxedos,
And comin’ up shorter than five Danny DeVitos.
I’m on a cool ranch…get laid more than Fritos,
With five strippers, four wives and three amigos.
I go scuba divin’ in Bays at Montego,
I find gold links and snatch ‘em like I’m Deebo.
But I’m the light-skindeded version of Mandingo,
I’ve seen more Beatles and Jagged Edges than Ringo,
I used to run numbers in line they called me ‘Bingo.’
…That’s when you start to stare at who’s in the mirror,
And see yourself as a kid again, and you get embarrassed.
And I got nothin’ to do but make you look stupid as parents,
You fuckin’ do-gooders; too bad you couldn’t do good at marriage!
Classical slap-stick rappers need Chapstick.
My first name must be “He Ain’t Shit”
Cause every time I’m in a car
Bitches be like, “He ain’t shit!”
I’ll ignore you sellin crack, killin people, and keepin it real,
But disrespect me and my adopted fam and die young like veal.
Wrote this lyric from in the bed wit’ a chick
She had the tightest grip around the head of my…
…Bic. Now, can I get my pen back?
How you looking like beef jerky, beefing in every verse,
But never beefing in person? Randy Savage.
You wouldn’t snap a Slim Jim,
You wouldn’t rip a wrapping on Christmas in Santa’s attic
With the hands of Eddie Scissors…ain’t you average?
I got Soul Power, never took a cold shower,
Never had a girlfriend the color of cooking flour.
My mic is a Magnum.
See me and this chick, we go back like Cro-Magnon.
Man…we did it in the back of your Magnum;
I said, ‘Put them Lifestyles back, give me the Magnums.’
Thought kissin’ ass was in my blood type? Oh, negative.
Spottin’ fools frontin’ fly, girls act material.
…You live at home with your mom.