LL Cool J

LL Cool J - The Ripper Strikes Back songtekst

Je score:

A lil hip hop... relax  hold on to ya seats
 Oh yeah this is the total banger too
 Word up  total banger baby
 Hip Hop style baby  y'all remember

 By the middle of March  when the pregnancy starts
 In your ladies' placenta  that means L just entered
 Duck taped your little bitch ass for frontin
 You poor little crackhead ass ain't hurtin nuttin
 Nigga you want the fame, now you're famous overnight
 Famous for getting fucked by a stick of dynamite
 You're weak nigga, you bout to die up in your sleep
 The overlord of rap will never meet defeat
 Pain and agony, I don't touch them zones
 Fucking everlasting lyrical methods is my throne
 Blast ya fifty pound ass and make you float
 You read it shook nigga, I wrote the book, nigga
 Held down my crown for a decade and a half
 Now I'm bout to give your grimy ass a blood bath
 Talk about bein broke, nigga I'm rich
 Cause I learned, to seperated the money from the bitch
 Don't hate me cause I'm paid, hate me because
 I'm everything you want to be : handsome, young, plus legendary
 Talk about Farrakhan, nigga you got to call Jesse Jackson
 For some Affirmative Action

 Chorus: repeat 4X

 Can-I-Bus ! Yes you can!

 Don't ever open your mouth and mention my seeds
 Talk about my book you bought to read
 You know you watch the sitcom nigga so stop that
 Mad rapper, but now you turned mad actor
 Forty-nine pounds and tryin to be a monster
 Run around town with the Bob Marley imposters
 Ask Canibus, he ain't understandin this
 Cause ninety-nine percent of his fans, don't exist
 I'm goin underground and blowin your rep down
 Next time, save that shit for the Lyricist's Lounge
 Or a House Party, where you can battle some clown
 On top of all that, I beat your homeless ass down
 Heard that convicted rapist on the record too
 Fresh out of jail, ass cheeks still black and blue
 Tell me bout the things ear biter taught you
 How to bust a nut or two? (Yeah that's butta boo)
 You be decomposin, but you frozen because my title's stolen
 Steady rollin in a world that I'm controllin
 Vanguard awards are for Kings who get OFF!
 Clock platinum mountains, the praise of the Lord
 Talkin bout my first and second and third born
 Now I got a fourth, Canibus, but he cut off
 From the riches of my empire, I'm like a pimp
 Who thought he had to retire but found a new Canibus to hire
 You're hardcore, innocence like Heather Hunter
 But definitely not with the lyrics that drop thunder
 Found you in a trash can, hat black, cause you scared to bust
 Nigga in Todd we trust

 Chorus

 Now break it down for me !

 See I, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, amateur, M,C's
 in hip-hop, word up, no bullshit
 Oh I ain't done yet

 You soft as a newborn baby takin a nap
 Make my dick hard with that bitch ass track
 Where you at? Smokin in some one room flat
 Suckin on Clef's dick hopin to come back
 Never that, nigga my size is unlimited
 Yours is prohibited, of course that's contributed
 To not knowin ya limits and who you need to test
 When you step into the house of the Lord and get blessed
 Get on your knees, bow down to my degrees
 Young slacker, save that demo for Jack the Rapper
 You gargoyle, slash olive oil, pussycat
 I wrapped up in aluminum foil, ready to boil
 I'ma tear the skin off ya ass with ten knuckles
 Rhymes was weak, they made me chuckle like a name buckle
 You call em lyrics, nigga you need to stop
 You goin out --- ahh fuck it, you goin pop
 I feed you a poisonous verse so don't try it
 No more rhymin, you on a lyric fast diet
 Call the paramedic and tell them that he pathetic
 His lyrics ain't energetic you're sweet as a diabetic
 Career be over next year, yeah I said it
 Look over your shoulder nigga, where you headed
 MUTHAFUCKA, where's a rhyme when you need it?
 First rule of lyrical war, never repeat it
 You said that same bullshit at House of Blues
 Lit the pipe, dropped the match, and sparked the wrong fuse
 That's you, yeah nigga I'm goin at you
 Stop basin', and you can be a role model too
 Diss my moms, who's the real Rap Don ?
 Who ruled for fifteen years and drops bombs ?
 Who's got solid gold Grammy's that say Todd ?
 LL, when you drop verses the nigga's wrong
 Faggot, you better battle number two
 Cause number one, got his title locked down son
 The King of all rappers that ever graced the stage
 or the mic, best that ever did it I'm wicked
 Write a verse and flip it, melt it down to liquid
 And drown shorty, fill his lungs until I rip it
 Chest busts open, heart bursts and smokin
 YOU SEE THAT NIGGA SON? (Damn L, we was only jokin)
 Maneuver manipulate brainwaves transform
 your thought process, when my pen gets erect
 Warning, all MC's better retreat
 Look at corny-bus, he can't walk down his own street
 Better run and get the Fugees
 Cause I EAT, EAT, EAT, MC's
 Devour they titles, cause I'm an idol slash icon
 And tell Wyclef, don't even turn his fuckin mic on
 Sold ya nigga, thought I told ya nigga
 Crossover, slam dunk, game over nigga (one more time son)
 Sold ya nigga, thought I told ya nigga
 Crossover, slam dunk, game over nigga

 Chorus

 " Now wait for the studio audience to applaud, faggot, hahahah
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Taal: Engels

Deel je mening

Dit formulier wordt beschermd door reCAPTCHA en de Google Privacy Policy en Servicevoorwaarden zijn daarbij van toepassing.

0 Reacties gevonden