I make niggas eat dirt and fart dust,
Then give you a $80 gift certificate to Pussies “Я” Us.
Ludacris, “Mouthing Off,” Back for the First Time, 2000
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I make niggas eat dirt and fart dust,
Then give you a $80 gift certificate to Pussies “Я” Us.
I never fronted, you can get it if you want it…
Won’t say I’m the best, but I’m not that far from it.
Listenin to nothin, takin no suggestions,
All destructive criticisms that can’t improve on perfection.
You lose money chasing women;
Never lose women chasing money.
Bitch is in the back looking righteous
In a tight dress…I think I might just
Hit her with a little Biggie 101:
How to tote a gun,
And have fun with Jamaican rum.
Pain is joy when it cries, it’s my smile in disguise.
I’ve been layin’, waiting for your next mistake,
I put in work, and watch my status escalate.
Some rappers stink, like Engelbert Humperdinck,
Better yet Dick Cavett, I got a bad habit
Similar to the girl on She’s Gotta Have It.
Every time I write these words they become a taboo,
Making sure my punctuation curve, every letter here’s true,
Living my life in the margin, and that metaphor was proof.
A day to God is a thousand years,
Men walk around with a thousand fears.
The true joy of love brings a thousand tears,
In the world of desire, there’s a thousand snares.
If you go platinum, it’s got nothing to do with luck,
It just means that a million people are stupid as fuck.
Those who flashin’ don’t blast, they still buffoons,
Just blowin out hot air, they should fill balloons.
I’m like them shorties that could kill for goons,
They started hustlin’ in April to cop wheels in June.
And as for the critics, tell me I don’t get it.
Everybody can tell you how to do it, they never did it.
If I wasn’t in the rap game,
I’d probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game.
Because the streets is a short stop:
Either you’re slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.
Perm in your hair or even a curly weave,
Wichya New Edition Bobby Brown button on your sleeve.
I tell you come here, you say, ‘Meet me half way,’
Cause brothers been popping that game all day.
All I see is sissies in magazines smiling…
Whatever happened to wildin’ out and being violent?
Whatever happened to catching a good, old-fashioned, passionate ass whoopin’?
And getting your shoes, coat and your hat tooken?
My momma did her part,
But it ain’t her fault that I was born without a heart.
In other words: I’m heartless dude.
I don’t love me…how the fuck I’mma love you?
We live in a society created by an empire
That’s based on terror…welcome to the One World Era,
A complete interruption to your lil’ paltry-ass life,
That you thought you was livin, and what you been given.
Others tell like it is, while I tell it how I would like it to be.
They say that love is powerful as cough syrup and Styrofoam.
All I know is I fell asleep and woke up in that Monte Carlo
With the ugly Kardashian…
Lamar, oh, sorry. Yo, we done both set the bar low.
Anything worth having is hard to keep,
I love you like my coffee, so hot and so sweet.
So, let’s stick it out so we never regret it,
I could forgive the past–but I never forget it.
I don’t understand the difficulty, people;
Love your brother, treat him as an equal.
Redman ready to rock rough rhymes,
Renegade rapper, rip when it’s rhyme time.
Punk push a pen and pencil when I’m pissed,
Pack pistol posse, flow some more pro shit.
Your whole appearance is a lie and it could never be true.
And if you really loved yourself, then you would try and be you.
What is competition? I’m tryna raise the bar high,
Who tryna jump and get it? You better off tryna skydive
Out the exit window of 5 G5’s with 5 grand
With your granddad as the pilot he drunk as fuck tryna land
With the hand full of arthritis and popping prosthetic leg
Bumpin Pac in the cockpit so the shit that pops in his head
Is an option of violence, someone heard the stewardess said
That your parachute is a latex condom hooked to a thread.
I’ve seen niggas transform like villain Decepticons,
Mollies’ll prolly turn these niggas to fuckin’ Lindsay Lohan.
A bunch of rich ass white girls lookin’ for parties,
Playin with Barbies, wreck the Porsche before you give ‘em the car key.
I got a girl and she treat me fine,
But the homies all think that I’m losin’ my mind.
I’m trippin’ and I know it cause I’m all nerved up,
Cause everytime I go to sleep, I see this big ol’ butt.
See, I ain’t never gave no chick 4 stars,
But she treat me so good that she be drivin my car.
And every day it get better, I can’t lie,
Went to the house and she made me some hot potato pie.
All my friends be sayin, “She ain’t nothin but a scrub!”
But she make me feel high like I’m hooked on drugs.
So I give her what she need, and what’s done is done,
But I’m a special kind of fool but ayo, it don’t bother me none.
I can’t help myself, I know that I’m trippin’,
But she got it goin’ on like Kentucky Fried Chicken.
It seem like everybody dress tight now,
And I just want my credit.
What you base your happiness around?
Material, women, and large paper?
That means you inferior, not major.
You can’t take the heat, get ya ass out the kitchen
Matter fact, take ya ass back in there and wash the dishes.
Food for thought, so get a buffet plate.
The lyrics are so fat you might gain weight.
I wish I didn’t get searched when I come through customs.
I wish Christians stop beefin’ with Muslims,
Wish the poor didn’t have to take welfare,
Wish America had universal health care…
Cause ain’t no help here.
The mind is a terrible thing to waste.
I show love cause it’s a terrible thing to hate.
Guns and the sneakers made Jada.
The bitches and the reefer came later
With the money and the haters.
Don’t sell yourself to fall in love,
With those things you do…
I circumnavigate the globe with a one-liner like latitude.
Life can change your directions, even when you ain’t planned it.
All you can do is handle it, worst thing you can do is panic.
I wanna just take this time out to be perfectly honest;
Cause there’s a lotta shit I keep bottled that hurts deep inside of my soul,
And just know that I grow colder the older I grow.
This boulder on my shoulder gets heavy and harder to hold,
And this load is like the weight of the world and I think my neck is breaking,
Should I just give up or try to live up to these expectations?
I don’t mind you talkin shit, just keep it in the first person.
Know the shit I don’t write be the illest shit that’s ever been recited in the game,
Word to the hyphen in my name!
I got mouths to feed,
Unnecessary beef is more cows to breed.
Rappers act so wild, and love to profile,
Frontin’ hard, but ain’t got no style.
Consider me the entity within the industry without a history of spitting the epitome of stupidity.
In time, you’ll see a thin line between friend and rival.
Between you and me: stupidity and men’s bravado.
No matter what the name, we’re all the same pieces in one big chess game.
Burn, Hollywood, burn, I smell a riot goin’ on,
First they’re guilty, now they’re gone!
Nowadays, the game is all bugged out,
Phony, like back when Hammer tried to come thugged out.