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letra de guess who's bizzack - m_bizzerg

[verse 1]
guess who’s bizzack, crushing endo sacks, raps flow the schuylk!ll, livin how i’m used to
futuristic mileage, fly with f-ckin style b-tch, i stay straight wylin, realer than me? try again
it’s all good, of course room to improve, forget the negative, stick to the regimen, smokin some medicine
right on the beach i’m with the team blowin trees, no rainy days for weeks, sand burnin our feet
summa time living, h-lla fine women they all follow us cuz were charlie sheen winning
no sleep, but what i dream is never ending, they foes creep tryna get a peek of what i’m spending
realize that what you thought was wack is the reason that your sets completely off the map
as my raps attack like combat, i’m armed strapped. odb on the track bring it on back
shame on you. as i aim on through to, eliminate the bad vibes son get used to
this voodoo magic, as i hash twist. the zags lit, dominate beats and bash drum kicks
average? huh that’s a little underrated. under the roof and i’m so faded
jaded, sharp words like a knife jab, mike back again and i’m keepin it so rad

[hook- bizzerg]
[verse 2]
i gotta hundred different styles and techniques till next week these pipsqueaks can’t even ball in my league
let alone ride bench, sense, triple double versatility;
a bottle of hennessy, and plenty trees we set in a vicinity to kick it like pepe
that bomb haze, twist up multiple j’s, roached engraved in the ashtray
while your pinchin with your thumbs, i’m rollin another one
blow smoke like stop signs, speeding down ya block, quarter to three on the clock, with this weed in my sock
dodge the feds like ball, i’m all for f-ck the law, street smart with no flaw, taking dollars from ya’ll
rhyme without a reason, heat it up in the season of freezing, suicidal without the squeezing
treasons i don’t need em, eyes on the back of my head. ten steps ahead and still your schemes i’ve read.. yeee

[hook]
[verse 3]
i roll another swisher heading skyward, my verses laid down but no plywood, check it
vibe first and knock the hate off later, f-ck just gettin by, i’m on the verge of greater
invader, yea i’m comin from another land. my ground levels in the sky, no time for diggin sand
i’m twistin up a gram, blowin purp. gettin brain while i’m schoolin fools, leave em homework
see a piggie rollin words muttered, f-ck em. quarter o i’m holdin but i don’t sweat, nothing
tint on full blast, money on asap. on top of my paper like where your names at
they call me the baker occupation is pro rap, ohh cr-p the professional on point like decimals
never off as you chumps get tossed, to the side. varsity ball-i
-n. way above the rim, on your second floor gym. with the pen equivalent to ten shots of gin
eyes on h-llboy, blowin on some goodie. pockets on charlie sheen, money like a bookie

[hook]

- m_bizzerg

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