Scrilla Vic
Scrilla Vic - Freestylin' songtekst
Je score:
Now I get Jimmy getting’ busy to the shake and the shimmy Your ladies one of those, Umm… ho’s I knows My old throws make the pros limp, wimper & simper Ax your wood for good and then go yell “Timber!” You kick the bobos like you got two left feet Your style is to the back I’ll send your ass straight to jump street Goodness gracious! Great Balls of Fire! You’re burned again – here’s a bib – you’re served again Still beggin’ for a chance, but tricks don’t even glance A diaper for your ass cuz when they come you shit your pants The V’s swing can make the church mute sing Battaboom, battabing. Why you’re wife ain’t got her ring? Cuz on her honeymoon, I told your honey soon she’d get some of that Zooma zoom zoom in a boom boom! So when I see some skin, you know that I’m in Turn a trick like the table when “Do it, Do it, Do it!” You’re once a month’s a wet dream Even Janine said you bring it like a sight unseen Til you pass out – ass out – Damn, I think it’s funny When I grab my baggies all the ladies, “Get Money!” And tell they girlfriend, “That’s the one they’ve been waiting for!” Pull out their bank and say, “Thanks! That’s the one I’ve been savin’ for!” So even though you know that I’m a young mack I’m never pullin’ out like your man, so don’t call it a comeback Comin’ around the corner with a wickeder style - the latino Rakin’ in mo’ do than Gambino every coked snow Delirious, deceptive, demeanted – yeah, all that Play you so way back your whole crew be askin’ “Who dat?” Blowin’ up the scene like frags from a pipe bomb To the break of dawn while you’re singin’ that sad song Onetimes dead wrong when he gave me the gasface With his guise milk cartons say, “Missin’ without a trace” I’m bound to clock paps like folklore Saw your man buyin’ lines from a local five and dime store Cuz they were saggin’ like your booty when you bought ‘em Not really into rock, but like a mountain top I keep risin’. It’s surprisin’ when I dew I hit the spot Instead of hittin’ home your rhymes totally swerve Stinkin’ up shows like Siskel & Ebert Equipped with the gift – smoke a sucka like a spliff Get wicked on the flex so double check – check it! I’m steadily steppin’, never trippin’, no nonsense My vertical rides the Utopian experience so Meenie Minnie Mo – catch a trick by the toe If she hollers, yo I won’t let her go Unless she flickers like a strobelight But with a whole stash hold things are gonna be alright With the latin buried treasure Hon grab a hold but I ain’t only for your stearing pleasure The no fakin’, title takin’, …. (Yawn) Oh, excuse me. Never keep the ladies waitin’ Flexin’ Mex threat, but my name ain’t Jose Causin’ shockwaves like a room full of Bose Speakers, beepers, yeah I got plenty Hons on standby? Mmm, about twenty So I satisfy Pee Wee, While you’re sittin’ on the can with your hand playin’ “I Dream of Genie” You’re blue cheese technique gets thrown in the trunk Think you’re shit don’t stink, well you ain’t fakin’ the funk Now my lyrics are unsheathed Razor-sharp switchblades cleanly slicin’ underneath your sublime I must be buggin’ out, But never crossin’ over or either sellin’ out I guess you want your vocals on my Memorex Sheet! It only takes the flex of the index To run off a couple through your follicles No I won’t waste time. Yes, I’ll punch your chronological for talkin’ bull So take a chill pill. Should I drill? Nah, just smack the enamel from your grill When it comes to droppin’ lyrics, I’m the man you can’t fuck wit Those steppin’ raw get served like Bisquick And you know with the flow St. Ides provides the juice to get loose when I spar with the funky repertoire