Lyrics:
!
[Tech N9ne]
This is style I use pitch, to catch and seduce chicks
To signal the true sick, mellow tone is what you spit
Switching the pattern, bust out
Your instructor for today is - Tech N9ne!
[Verse 1 - Tech N9ne]
This is style I use pitch, to catch and seduce chicks
To signal the true sick, mellow
Close the door befo ya child here the sound baby
Moma say stop or I'm gonna tell poppa
* - Tech raps these lines in between at double speed
[Tech N9ne
behind
One by one, they all leave me behind
I know
You’re tired
And sick of me
The shit that went so wrong
Put it on me
Oh, you know that I’ve been touched
the utmost respect
I bust low to death, I must bode the check
It's never enough, no for Tech
So I get sick with it, I make a bitch dig it
Even when I wanna
on for this C.R.E.A.M
The weatherman don't even know the storm I'ma bring
But yo, I'm not the man with whom you interact
So before you grab gats
To turn my spirit into shattered glass
Matter of fact, it’s only by God’s grace that i haven’t snapped
Not playing Ne-Yo, definitely no Dwele
I rather bump
price,
Keep dreaming, living my life, still grinding to get my shine,
High skills like Tech N9ne,
Rhyme hit you like drive-by, grab mic and let's ride,
I
yards, no picks
I feel like Ne-yo when she left me, turned my heart so sick
I think I'm addicted to this woman, I need AA
You got your passport, think we
Definitely more than my skin
Lil Jewish lucky breaks and a thirst to win
Living anxious so I can feel
Beneath my skin a switch I flick
The power soak in cop
you
Got me turned off completely by that sheisty shit that you do
Knew from jump yo' aim, straight through them spandex, don't front
Just name, spots
the dead
Then killed by the led
From all of the feds
The energy feels so good
I just knew that I could
Be that nigga for life
God dammit I was right
I
Oh yeah
I know you're sick and tired of waitin' on me, girl
But I'm, just tryin' to get my money right
So let some dumb nigga take a flight
So
I'm living my life like I'm sick in the head
Thoughts of success got me chasing my death
Every show I throw gets shut down by feds
I sleep in my
basketball
In the backyard on a forty by sixty-three foot long sports court (what?)
Hope I don't go back to slangin' ya-yo (ha)
Slangin' yayo (slangin'
Brr, brra yo, uh
Brr, pow, uh
E bagaboantă
Se-nvârte bine, soto vrea s-o facă
Cred că-i dau niște apă plată brr, brr
Ce piruete bagă, tată
Bravo,
[Method Man]
This goes out
to all the big head niggaz
And all them big head bitches
You know my steez o
Yo yo yo yo
Deadly
gloss
Damn I guess that's my fault
And I be like bae where you going
Ass so fat I can hold it wit both hands
Let me know if u got it on yo end
I been busy
commin'
By who and how the all act would be done?
So what?
One less bitch you gotta worry about
But that ain't how it turned out
Yo, there was
that's because my homes sick
The drive between my lines should make you feel like it's a road trip
So sick
I'm in a young body but when I spit, I'm like
as you and I keep it movin like a drive-by
We could stack dough sky-high
Niggaz can't touch what they can't feel real recognize real
Yo, I set up shop
Bitch you trippin
Come a little closer
Lemme grab you by the
I'm so sick
Said I'm
Sick and fucking tired
Of you bothering me
No I'm not your fucking guide
do Ne-yo
Eu 'to ligado por que 'cê veio
É que seu manual só eu que tenho
Cara de bandida eu me rendo
Batom de Cereja, flow do Ne-yo
I'm so
I’m just a young nigga tryna get so rich
I’m lil nes I don’t fuck with a snitch
Find out you write statements throw you in da ditch
Not even famous
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