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 third degree - sc static & zoo

third degree lyrics

(static)
yo i could give a f-ck about the rules, give a f-ck about your jewels
give a f-ck about your claims of being insurmountable
don’t wanna see the casualties of when i battle dudes
walk in with that new york i don’t give a f-ck att-tude
p-ssed off rapper i don’t get enough grat-tude
rhymes are horrific and they’ll scare the f-ck out of you
i’m high as h-ll i’m at a cloud height alt-tude
flying through the sky with a birds eye mountain view
i’m strictly business so don’t bother me with stupid sh-t
i’m a lunatic, dressing bluer than a hoova crip
load the rugger clips, then i’ll steady aim and shoot the sh-t
i’m a hooligan, a big daddy kane duplicate
zoo was chuggin’ brews chewing through huge vicodins
i was smoking reefer eatin’ blues clues vitamins
old school style with some new school type of sh-t
static on the track is like the juice crew cypherin’
i make myself at home in burial sites
and get higher than a stewardess on aerial flights, yeah
we never stressin’ over stereotypes
we stressin’ sony, panasonic, you know stereo types, uh
i rock baggy jeans, designer style fitteds
so sit back retire and admire my exquisite
comprised rhyme style of these lines that i’ve written
my ch-nky eyes wide alright i’m high and i admit it
late night on the bronx streets you can find me
40 in my hand and beside me a dime piece
my flow’s godly, whack rappers despise me
this sh-t’s grimy, pizza grease on my rhyme sheets, uh

(chorus)
i’ve had enough okays and okey dokes
from these phonies rockin’ fairy boy sandals with their open toes
your rap group’s a bunch of hopeless souls
you think your flow is dope but homie no you ain’t even remotely close
nope buddy no you ain’t even remotely close
so quit rappin’ quit yappin’ quit smokin’ boges
oh you actually think your flow is dope?
well nope homie no little buddy you ain’t even remotely close

(zoo)
my flow’s tougher than the south side of chicago
as i lay down golden bars like the road to eldorado
my hash from maraca, miami to new york, carlos delgado
my powder rocky, mountains in colorado
shout out to the homie coldanato
buy the ticket, take the ride, yeah now that’s our f-cking motto
i lived in west philly a few years back
within three months my apartment flipped to a trap
we were both bus all-stars of packing two in the briefcase
h.o.p.e. bracelet, golden charm, and a keepsake
if only i could learn eat, suck, and dream
i need a lot more than sonar and a submarine
you don’t got any guts, besides the ones
besides the ones you just dumped out of the dutch
my words are limitless, bradley cooper taking a pill
syllable marksman, sniper shooter making a k!ll
i’m the skipper of the ship, clooney in perfect storm
check my birth certificate, see where the f-ck i was born
so i laugh when cats say i ain’t gonna make it
i’m from new york, if it ain’t given to me i’ll f-cking take it
started at the bottom and i’m still here
while my career hides in blunt smoke and cold beer
in the gutter starring at the stars as they say
i’m spinning my tires, something’s gotta change
i don’t know where or when, but i sure do know why
i got a lot of dreams i don’t wanna die
i don’t know where or when, but i sure do know why
i got a lot of dreams i don’t wanna die

(static verse)
you’re probably thinking static i can spit as hot as you do
if you can do it, i can do it, your style’s not unusual
you’re white and so you suck at rap, your rhymin’ style is doo doo
so i’mma leave you in the dust just so i can prove it to you
words paint pictures watch me spew a few doodles
i’m chewing stems and caps till i have two huge pupils
my verse went over your head and my words flew through you
you must not know the members to the juice crew, do you?
i’m mr. magic, marley marl, kool g rap, and masta ace
dj polo, mc shan, biz markie, big daddy kane
plus the intelligent hoodlum tragedy khadafi
get your t–th knocked out like a casualty in hockey
so how can i respect you when your mind isn’t nourished
and when you’re in the booth your looking like an obvious tourist
people telling me that i ain’t gonna make it and i’ve had enough
what? cause i ain’t tatted up and i ain’t rappin’ whack as f-ck?
so talk a big game homie get built up
cause even though you got more money than me you still suck
imma die on this mic, spittin’ slurs in my he-rs-
so you know i’m an mc, my last words were a verse

- sc static zoo

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS