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letra de got the nerve - no ambitions

so you wanna talk some sh-t?
and you wanna play your games?
sit down motherf-cker
shut up motherf-cker
or you’re gonna get hit!

you don’t know sh-t b-tch!
you’re just a cheap c-nt!
when i take a look at you…
i f-cking throw up!!

so you think you can play your silly little f-ckin’ games
while you spit on my face you better settle your pace
cause’ your lucks about to fade away i say no names
just pave the lanes and the rock the f-cking mic for days- never tame!
bro you’re thinking insane you aughta’ watch your back and pray that i don’t make you my prey, you sad case my words laced with the hate that you cannot tolerate, i never change- f-ckin’ mental case, i’mma f-cking lose it man..

pause there we don’t force it, you f-ckers forfeit when we grab the forceps
abortions a must when it comes to these c-nts, shut a fella up cause’ he says he’s got a gun!
cut my lyrics up try and criticize my tongue, cause i don’t give a f-ck yeah and i’m just having fun
desy on the rhyme if you’re hearing it right, but here comes ‘z-pfiefs’ on the f-cking mic!

if you wanna talk sh-t, stand up!
motherf-cker if you’ve got the nerve!?
there’s a knife in my pocket, n-body’s gonna stop it!

shut up!
f-cking had it with the sh-t you’re spitting out
we are never backing down, f-cking clowns running ’round pants down!
f-ck you!
you talk to much sh-t, you’re a b-tch! a f-cking tick! you’re a f-cking derelict!

yo i’m coming right back, right back, for the pack
tell me why you f-cking be like that, like that-ah
f-ckin’ whack, f-ckin’ whack, watcha think you’re getting at?
it’s round 2 now, we ain’t ever slowing down
your speakers going ‘pow pow pow’ hows’ the sound?
i’ll tell ya how it goes down now you f-cking clowns
racing around like a simulated lowndes, but watch out for the tire blown blow blow!
you’re a weak piece of sh-t, and i’m a weet-bix kid, come and eat this kids and f-ckin’ eat this mix!
smash the beat to bits with the flick of my wrist, i was born with a drum stick and this you can’t f-ck with!
i’m a f-cking f-ck-wit i’ll say it to myself yes: i should drop dead b-tch, sh-t, that’s lit!
settling in for a bit, the predator-metaphor k!lls the compet-tor terrorist stabbing a s-d-stical lyricist up in this b-tch!!

if you wanna talk sh-t, stand up!
motherf-cker if you’ve got the nerve!?
there’s a knife in my pocket, n-body’s gonna stop it!

- no ambitions

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