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 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de wha's fuckin wit this - jakki the motamouth

[verse one: jakki the motamouth]
my flows taming the worst
no, this ain’t a mainstream song with a n-gga throwing game in his verse
nor an underground song strictly aimed at most geeks
with an average -ss cat spitting over dope beats
bro please
with your ho you better be finished
i f-cked your b-tch a week ago, you better head for the free clinic
i’m a sick individual with a diseased mind
you see that pet demon over there? he’s mine
f-ck your dawg, my words are more vicious
at my weakest i could scare a battle rapper sh-tless
beef i laugh
in a battle contest with rifles strictly to beat they -ss
g’s stay mad
aim at the chests of the freaks they had
nice br–sts got me claiming a set
talk out your -ss and i’ll give you the runs
superglue the lips on your buns
now you can’t say sh-t like a nun

[hook: copywrite] {x2}
what’s f-cking with this?
we’re nothing to diss
stuffing d-ck up in your b-tch
o.h. 10 we up in your sh-t
got something to spit?
only after you sucking a d-ck
rj on a banger
let it bump in your whip

[verse two: jakki]
i’m slapping your game
i’m gonna laugh when you came
while i was tapping your dame
n-gga you packing them thangs?
then you asking for pain
for a m-ssive insane
cat with the aim
give a stab at your brain
i’m the acid that rain
put your -ss in a drain
with a p-ssion for strangling wack brainiacs rapping the same
technical cats make me act drastically vein
f-ck rappers, ain’t trying to like no one else
you’ll think i’m conceited when i call my body ten times and cipher myself
pop the trunk time to mop this punk
like doing drive bys on trash cans, you popping junk
get your cd out my face, like i’ma cop this gunk
put out 9,000 copies and your pockets shrunk
i need no cash, to get in your hoes -ss
the only thing i’m spending is time at your lab
and you just a stench
jakki explained in one word
like crossing out the fuzz on your shirt, excellent
all my bully vets in here
let me on your album
now it’s mine and you’ll guest appear
satan kicked me out, already died
so don’t tell me to go to h-ll, cause i already tried

[hook]

[verse three: jakki]
i gave satan evil knowledge, best believe
i spread hate like a demonic s.t.d
if a kid get in my face, i just be me
if i stab him in the waist, then the chest he bleed
i don’t fight fair
don’t square up with me
like a nerd in heaven holding a glock
square up with heat
your raps are weak
but fly
must i
prove you ain’t a tough guy?
and you full of sh-t like a stuffed fly
i snuff guys, kick grunt rhymes
you can suck my d-ck if you don’t like the fact i use punchlines
ain’t sweating enough?
you fire
i run a d-ck sucking business
your b-tch is my new hire
this wh0r- is a trip
you can get this pretty b-tch outta my face
too many cold sores on her lip
your songs weak, mixed down trash, your beats are chalk
i’ll see you at your next record never release party
if i throw punches at your broad man [?]
i’ll connect faster than roy jones with broadband arms
or we can fight when i steal your ho
alcohol -ssures me i won’t feel your blows
who’s offended by rocket science?
i feel your pain
but like to let you know that i still feel the same
f-ck y’all

“columbus crews put it down”

[hook]

- jakki the motamouth

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS