the rhyme king
truth.com
I blaze yo britches, P.L.O. extortion, you forcin
The hand that rocks the cradle, caution before you enter
This Shaolin representer, carry thirty-six deadly shyts
You fukkin with, top contenders
Official to the bone gristle
It don't matter if you bust rhymes or bust pistols
Remember me, burn a nikka to a third degree
Don't act familiar motherfukkers you ain't heard of me
Just peep the stee and the rap how it's supposed to be
Tap the pockets bag the goods like a grocery, we food-shoppin
On top of that we hip-hoppin, and don't stoppin
Out-of-state drawers-droppin, the panty-raiders
Slide on ya like gators, umped that stank bytch back out
And then played her, but that ain't nothin
Crossin this dog walkin, native New York and
Shaolin slang talkin, rap nikka
Mr. Freeze crowd shiver
What? Young, black, and don't give a fukk
If the next crew get the scissor...
The hand that rocks the cradle, caution before you enter
This Shaolin representer, carry thirty-six deadly shyts
You fukkin with, top contenders
Official to the bone gristle
It don't matter if you bust rhymes or bust pistols
Remember me, burn a nikka to a third degree
Don't act familiar motherfukkers you ain't heard of me
Just peep the stee and the rap how it's supposed to be
Tap the pockets bag the goods like a grocery, we food-shoppin
On top of that we hip-hoppin, and don't stoppin
Out-of-state drawers-droppin, the panty-raiders
Slide on ya like gators, umped that stank bytch back out
And then played her, but that ain't nothin
Crossin this dog walkin, native New York and
Shaolin slang talkin, rap nikka
Mr. Freeze crowd shiver
What? Young, black, and don't give a fukk
If the next crew get the scissor...
