Track bySister Sledge
[CUTS] Dan-e-o, the bull fighter, rhyme writer, el matador Lyrical mastermind, flow viciously, this MC be raw Mono marksmen be sharpenin' they skills You couldn't screw with the crew, Monolith Cus disrespect is not allowed when the Lith rolls through This rap addict's back at it to have you fags frantic Cats who have static, your caskets need plannin' Though Dan is asthmatic, I lyrically blast cannons I seriously can't stand what this industry has patented A style of rap that's laced with phrases that's basically lazy Wasting our babies' minds through songs that's crazily shady Amazing me maybe the most is how we disgrace the ladies On screens, got 'em dribbling more balls than Tracy McGrady What company hired you to give the rep that you holdin'? Sometimes I see your V.I.P. pass and bet that it's stolen You never wrote a rhyme so why your head is so swollen? Couldn't make a crowd get up even if the credits was rollin' It's a shame you an A&R, you won't get your label far Would rock groups get signed if its members couldn't play guitar? (No) then why do wack rappers make mad grands? Meanwhile, without a badge, I'm still known as The Man, yeah! [CHORUS x2] WE come to rock, YOU come to jock! WE nice the vibe and y'all niggaz dick ride! YOU come to hate, WE snatch your plate! And YOU get your food eaten every time! I crush clowns, make they're blabberin' a hushed sound Gwannin' with too much mouth like if they scored a touchdown Now they just cuss, frown and cry cuz they just found I must pound punks into the ground 'till they dust bound Cuz all you've done is rockin' in your click's sessions Assumin' that each verse makes a popular impression Stop any bredren from walkin' up into my section Cuz from one mention, I pop niggaz like big questions Still my records don't make enough funds for me And you complainin' how commercial hip-hop's come to be? You internet nerds are all punks to D How will underground survive when you get stuff for free? See this menace is a murderer with sentences Greater than percentages of pregnant kids on T.V. talk show segments is But you a faker, step to me and I'll make ya Later than periods and the times most niggaz wake up! [CHORUS] [BRIDGE] WE be the niggaz who can rock the house And YOU be the niggaz who just run your mouth See, WE be the niggaz who can make 'em dance And YOU be the niggaz you ain't got a chance See, WE be the niggaz who are bound to blow And YOU be the niggaz who ain't learned to flow So just chill and check how it's supposed to go Yo peep it, yo peep it, peep it, peep it Man, what you lookin' at? Who you tryin' to scare with your crooked raps? Cookin' facts up so all that's in your lyric book is crap Claimin' you jookin' chaps, to me you the shookest cats How you sell your soul, you might as well work where them hookers at Battle your click and start with the largest member Spirits I break with more malice than all of law's offenders Hotter than West Indian food made with the harshest pepper Serve you niggaz with verses badder than my father's temper Remember "Dear Hip Hop"?, you one of his abusers Especially you hatin' types, fake gangstas and you nerds Callin' my pager anonymously dissin' me through words No metaphors needed here: you're straight up friggin losers! Yo, you're soon to hurt, here's what happens when this tune'll burst It'll puncture the universe like dolls for a voodoo curse Do you see the moon and earth? Yo, they'll be the first to go I don't know what's worse you know, a flood or when I burst a flow! [CHORUS]