Yo
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit
Whenever you hear some shit and you can’t refuse it
It’s just some shit for these kids to trash their rooms with (Yeah)
Just refuse whenever they’re asked to do shit (Hahaha)
The type of shit that you don’t have to ask who produced it
You just know that’s the new shit (Woo)
The type of shit that causes mass-confusion
And drastic movement of people actin’ stupid
I come to every club with intention to do harm
With a prosthetic arm and smellin’ like Boone’s Farm
Hidin’ under tables as soon as I hear alarms
Paranoid thief that’ll steal from his own mom
Kunivin’ Kon Artis with a bomb
Strapped to my stomach, screamin’, “Let’s get it on”
A lush that love to drink, drunk-drivin’ a tank
Rollin’ over a bank, cops see me and faint (“Vrrr!”)
It’s drastic, I’m past my limit of coke
I think I’ll up my high by slittin’ your throat
Push your baby carriage into the street, ’til it’s mince meat
Your mens been beat, the minute I step onto your street
This is fight music
You know why my hands are so numb? (
No
)
‘Cause my grandmother sucked my dick and I didn’t cum (Ha-ha-ha-ha,
oh
)
Smacked this whore for talkin’ crap
So what if she’s handicapped? (Bitch,
ow,
what?)
The bitch said, “Bizarre couldn’t rap” (“Can’t rap, you’re whack”
ha-ha
)
I fuckin’ hate you, I’ll take your drawers down and rape you (Rrr,
ah
)
While Dr. Dre videotapes you (“Hell yeah”)
Satan done got me on this song, eatin’ a hot dog
Readin’ the Holy Quran while I’m on the john (Uh)
Tired of wearin’ this yellow thong
Take it back, Sisqo, you know where it belongs (Bom-bom, bom-bom)
Now, here’s a gun, I’ll put it in your palm (Bow)
Now go over there and blow up Dru Hill’s arms, fuck the love songs
Bitch
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit
Whenever you hear some shit and you can’t refuse it
It’s just some shit for these kids to trash their rooms with
Just refuse whenever they’re asked to do shit
The type of shit that you don’t have to ask who produced it
You just know that’s the new shit
The type of shit that causes mass-confusion
And drastic movement of people actin’ stupid
Just bring who you gon’ bring on, who you gon’ swing on
I’m King Kong, guns blow you to kingdom come
Show you “Machine Gun Funk”
Sixteen M16’s, one pump (Mm)
The snub in my paw, shove it in your jaws (Ooh, mm)
Have you runnin’ out this fuckin’ club in your drawers (Ah, mm)
We lovin’ the brawls; there’s nothin’ to applaud (Nah)
But, fuck it, it’s all good, the hood is up in us all
It’s fight music
I’m a nigga that loves scuffles
And won’t hesitate to sock you again with swollen knuckles
I’m like that, catch a nigga like bear traps
Blow his head back, right in front of the precinct (You hear that? Ah)
I slap your freak, bump you and won’t speak (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
If you step on my feet, you get drowned in your own drink (Pssh)
I suffocated my shrink just for talkin’
Came back and fucked up his pallbearers and made them drop his coffin
It’s fight music
These beads I’m swingin’ is stingin’ them (Ph, ph, ph)
See all these niggas? When I step in the club, I’m bringin’ them
(“What up, doe?”)
And any nigga lookin’ too hard, we Rodney King-in’ them (Ooh, ooh)
Malice Green-ing them and gasolinin’ them with premium (Ugh)
Light a cigarette, flick it at ’em, or spit it at ’em (Hoo)
Hold up a picture of his family and kick it at him (“No”)
Blast while you right-hookin’, right when your wife’s lookin’ (Uh-huh)
Fuck fight music, bitch, this is losing-your-life music
If I could capture the rage of today’s youth and bottle it
Crush the glass with my bare hands and swallow it
And spit it back in the faces of you racists
And hypocrites who think the same shit but don’t say shit
You Liberace’s, Versace’s, and you Nazis
Watch me, ’cause you figured you got me in this hot seat (Tss)
You motherfuckers wanna judge me ’cause you’re not me
You’ll never stop me, I’m top speed and you pop me
I came to save these new generations of babies
From parents who failed to raise them ’cause they’re lazy
To grow to praise me, I’m makin’ them go crazy
That’s how I got this whole nation to embrace me
And you fugazi if you think I’ma admit wrong
I cripple any hypocritic critic I’m sicked on
And this song is for any kid who gets picked on
A sick song to retaliate to, and it’s called
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit
Whenever you hear some shit and you can’t refuse it
It’s just some shit for these kids to trash their rooms with
Just refuse whenever they’re asked to do shit
The type of shit that you don’t have to ask who produced it
You just know that’s the new shit
The type of shit that causes mass-confusion
And drastic movement of people actin’ stupid
It’s fight music
یک پلیلیست انتخاب کنید یا سریع پلیلیست جدید بسازید.
نظرات