The Beatnuts

The Beatnuts - No Equal songtekst

Je score:


	(Number One

	Competition is none) --> Rakim



[ VERSE 1: Ju-Ju ]

Niggas got me steamin, bout to flip my lid

Fuck around, and I proceed to blow your back out, kid

(Boom!) Not to say I'm on a violent tip

But my hand stays on my gun, in case you start some shit

Cause I been rhymin since way back when

Straight up and from the heart is how it's always been

Now punk niggas wanna test me

But all that tiggedy-tiggedy tongue-twistin shit don't impress me

It's just a phase, and you know damn well

That you'll fall off in a minute, cause that shit don't sell

Funny how you think you could surpass me, or outlast me

With that bullshit style, you're fallin fast, gee

See, I suggest you go back where you came from

(Your mic, and my mic) Come on, don't play, son

See, the days of payin dues is over

I'm a little fed up, and it's time that I show ya

We battle one time, you're dead, no sequel

(Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal) --> Q-Tip



	You know we're number one

	Competition is none



[ VERSE 2: Psycho Les ]

The wiggedy-wicked Psycho Les drops it like a lunatic

Steady back-breakin bitches with my super dick

Hat's on the jim, sometimes I nut in em

St. Ides fucks up their eyes, and I bend em

Down, while I'm flowin to this nutty sound

Open up the knapsack, check out what we found

H-h-horns, bass, lines

Beats get chopped in the Nut Shop, we don't waste time

Yo, I'm 'cold lampin' like Flavor

Floatin at the top while you're sick, and 'nothin can save ya'

Just like the Biz said

Remember - uugh! - styles I drop to be, what is it?

(The shizzit) Word to your mama

I bend your girl like a comma

Due to Lambada, I think I gotta

Stop, because the bitch said, "(???)"

So I nutted, and I got out

(Boom!) No matter how hot you claim to be, you can't roast this

Nut, what's up? You wanna get eaten up like a hostess?

'Cup', 'cake', you know my words are lethal

(Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal)



[ VERSE 3: Fashion (Al' Tariq) ]

Every line I connect, my literature's perfect

Per minute, per second, and yo, you gotta reck-

On with Fashion, cause by the way I'm rippin things

Whoever thinks I take a loss has hamstrings

Young dames, I shoot em and Jimmy aims to knock her

Sex with this flex, best thing tends to lock up

Yeah, really bad ass, smokin past you niggas

The chicks I stick shit with, I love your figures

Triggers, I pull em with no remorse for bodies

Fash pumps the hotties, chumps pump with shoties

Shoot em up, bang-bang! Miss targets rarely

Mics I touch up, I fucks em daily

Barely another who can test the cool Fash

Asses I kick in the ashes, dumpin trashes

So don't riff, cause I flow swift like the Nile, son

Tame is for plain Jane fame, I'm a wild one

Auto-matic-ly I let loose the 

Fierce MC-i-n-g force in me

Cool Fash, sendin a blast to rap people

(Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal)
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Taal: Engels

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