to Georgetown (Georgetown) Knockin' off clowns that clap 'em off rounds It's war now, so toss the nine 'cuz I'ma floss and shine You lost your mind if you thought your rhymes
, go [Trey Songz] Girl I'mma beat it like a drum, make your back go When I start to go under Now your turn, go low with it Show me that you know what
I'll make the quietest person wanna go and get loud I'll make the hot get hotter when I start to rap And my reward for goin' off is to hear people clap
labels or rap Yo, can I get a soul clap? Words are infinite Rhymes are untouchable, in the skies are the limit Yo, some people husslin' because then cant make
link to dust, watch brain cells bust As I flip the script, I could make a Rev feel lit You walking on shakey ground, call it warned Now big up your chest
evenin' It's assassin-night Have you weezin' You and Eddie Murphy can laugh alike The Revival You can call it the Preme project But it's violent You should call it
48 hours left to clap shit, crack shit, bogard like Bogota While ya imbosiles still really think y'all real Just because ya bust a gat don't mean you keepin' it
and a click homey You ain't dope just 'cause ya sniff it, or lace ya blunt with it That just makes ya a wack rapper and a drug addict, get it These niggaz rhyme
around That can take that box and make it sound Like anything that you could possibly want Now here's a rhyme that sums it up Jeff is diggy-diggy-di-dope
Here we are, how bizarre, how far Will I take it, will I make it, have I already made it What'd you think about my album after you played it Was is good, was it bad, was it
Here we are, how bizarre, how far will a take Will I make it, have I already made it What'd you think about my album after you played it? Was it good, was it bad, was it
slinkie Slip and slide with my twinkie Welcome to my world as it winds and it twists I'm a kick a funky little rhyme that you missed Boloo-chewy-
fucking forehead open Rude Boy style I keep it raunchy and funky Like a dirty laundry pile I can rhyme, I can rap, I can sing, I can clap I can dance,
up to the ceilin' We groove it, you move it, it has been proven We calmed the seven seas because our music is soothin' We create it, relate it and often demonstrate it
fucking face blob Adolf the Assassinator - yo kid we hard Yo smack you on some barbecue lard Yo kid - Yo niggas is hungry you god! Yo I know what time it is like clap
you know it's pure cut Raw with the groove, easy to turn it up We keep it sharp on the edge with a 'nuff niceness Or could it be it's fresh 'cause ya
stereo Spliff Starr ignorant immigrant I'm gettin it Money, fast car, fine broads, what I'm hittin it (that's right) Raw shit i'm spittin it At you and yours Make
clap niggas, I'M YOUNG GOTTSTRA Put it up, pistols might sizzle a nigga For shizzle my nigga Kurizzle was nizzle my nigga LIke a bitch or a busta, bust