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letra de sbtv f64 part 2 - lunar c

[beat – dj premier]

[verse 1 – lunar c]
yo, lunar c
flytippers
f64, big up sbtv
yo

they say these rappers can’t battle and these battlers are sh-t
on tracks, if that’s true i’m the exception to the rule
you’re a one trick pony like [uri geller] with his spoon
b-tch i’m dynamo minds are blown by everything i do
i’m not selling myself short like a midget hooker
i tell these record labels straight this is my time
uk rappers ain’t aiming their sights high
they think their net worth is what they pay for their wi-fi
some of you probably think that i’m a piece of sh-t
because i came from the bottom like a piece of sh-t
but if you wanna judge people by appearances
and you’re talking diarrhea you can die or eat a d-ck
back at it like crack addicts havin’ a relapse
real rap i never water it down
everybody knows my name from the north to the south
so i don’t give a flying f-ck if you the talk of the town
look, hard headed with a stone cold heart
they wonder how a dumb stoner got so far
i blame half my success on doing what i need to do
the other fifty percent is down to not being you
nah i’m playing, i haven’t even made it yet
but i’ve got my opposition wishin’ that i’d take a rest
they’re tryna play it down and actin’ all hard
but deep down they’re flappin’ like macklemore’s arms
i’m on a rampage no mc is exempt
from my k!lling spree i be seein’ all their feeble attempts
these dudes try to get a deal for years and when they get it
they drop 3 songs and you never see ’em again
lunar c reporting live from the loony bin
they threw me in a padded room for trying to abuse my shrink
every time we speak i try to get her nude
and then ask her to lift her legs in the air like i’m hoovering
the best out, you been asleep if you disagree
some of you just can’t admit defeat
i e-mail d-ck pics to your girl so i don’t clog up her twitter feed
call me quagmire because i gave her a giggadee
making my decision based on intuition
i don’t beg n0body’s pardon or wait for their permission
i’m on my own thing f-ck changin’ just to fit in
with the rest of you i’m tryna beat the game into submission
if this isn’t about bars it’s pointless
i’m bored of hearing about the sh-t that you got
compared to me you’re blatantly sh-t like brown marks on my toilet
and that’s exactly why i’m p-ssin’ you off
back when we shared beats with each other on bluetooth
i tried to make my first cd but it was too soon
now i got that sk!ll you only see once in a blue moon
flip the heirarchy i’m the leader of the new school
we ain’t what you’re used to i’ve been a little cuckoo
ever since my babysitter put my pee-pee in her p–p chute
your boy’s nasty like a geezer in a tutu
or two girls with a plastic beaker full of doodoo
b-tches fight over the stiffy cause the flow’s ill
sh-t is so real, i got big with no deal
wrappin’ zuggies in the whip until it’s smoke-filled
the rizlas are silver like the head on phillip schofield
getting circled like the 8 on a black ball
i’m winnin’ now so i’m the one they hate on or black-ball
get out my way if you ain’t got no money for me you need to budge it
pin pr-cks in my johnny i’m tryna be productive
got it covered like cl-ts on babestation
know your place even my throwaways are game-changin’
lame tapes but they’ll never be this deep
good times and dead brain cells, september the sixteenth!
buh!

- lunar c

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