No Sucka
I'm a beast these days
I need beats like the Taliban need grenades
I don't stutter, better ask someone in the Cali rap scene
I'm saying my flow gutter, like we're alley cats, feed on prey
I'm no sucker, I'm a savage, son
Had my ass kicked once or twice
But rather that than run
Now understand me, I'm a new man
And observation has taught me
More than newsstands and school can
I'll prove that this smooth cat can Bruce Banner the mic
Your crew's gassed up and too amateur
Like, feel ashamed that your whole camp's nothing
Sandpeeps kill the game 'til the whole fam's buzzing
Soon as you feel the flames you wanna close that oven
It's deep in the Thriller game, now keep the program running
I swear to god, I'm on a Coke can budget
But step up and get ripped like Conan's stomach
I'll tear 'em off, anybody that's flexing
I swear to God, nobody's this hungry that's repping
And so what if I'm turned on by money and weapons
Or the sight of myself? I've never seen an ugly reflection
I'm a youngster, up and coming, with something to prove
Certified champion hungers for something other than food
Northwest drunken master, sounded sorta like a buzz
Slurring, someone pour a pint of suds
Just imagine the younger fans absorb it like a sponge
I understand it wasn't planned to glorify the drugs
I'm stuck making music about it
Fuck it, with every verse I'm kicking mud-caked boots on your couches
Take that, mo'fuckers is so quick to write you off
To me, you won't know shit until the title's yours
Try to get it, I promise it ain't a easy task
You don't want it with us
I got a gift and it's beating ass
Competition's pride is thin as a sheet of glass
Drop and watch it break under pressure and cue the evil laugh (haha)
The audience has bought a ticket just to see me spaz
And body this and drop the shit and let the needle scratch
I need beats like the Taliban need grenades
I don't stutter, better ask someone in the Cali rap scene
I'm saying my flow gutter, like we're alley cats, feed on prey
I'm no sucker, I'm a savage, son
Had my ass kicked once or twice
But rather that than run
Now understand me, I'm a new man
And observation has taught me
More than newsstands and school can
I'll prove that this smooth cat can Bruce Banner the mic
Your crew's gassed up and too amateur
Like, feel ashamed that your whole camp's nothing
Sandpeeps kill the game 'til the whole fam's buzzing
Soon as you feel the flames you wanna close that oven
It's deep in the Thriller game, now keep the program running
I swear to god, I'm on a Coke can budget
But step up and get ripped like Conan's stomach
I'll tear 'em off, anybody that's flexing
I swear to God, nobody's this hungry that's repping
And so what if I'm turned on by money and weapons
Or the sight of myself? I've never seen an ugly reflection
I'm a youngster, up and coming, with something to prove
Certified champion hungers for something other than food
Northwest drunken master, sounded sorta like a buzz
Slurring, someone pour a pint of suds
Just imagine the younger fans absorb it like a sponge
I understand it wasn't planned to glorify the drugs
I'm stuck making music about it
Fuck it, with every verse I'm kicking mud-caked boots on your couches
Take that, mo'fuckers is so quick to write you off
To me, you won't know shit until the title's yours
Try to get it, I promise it ain't a easy task
You don't want it with us
I got a gift and it's beating ass
Competition's pride is thin as a sheet of glass
Drop and watch it break under pressure and cue the evil laugh (haha)
The audience has bought a ticket just to see me spaz
And body this and drop the shit and let the needle scratch
Credits
Writer(s): Greg Poe
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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