Lyrics:
The likes of me, F-you-D-G-E brains compete
Wit CP0-three's intelligence
Accompanied by Mike Z-double-O-T
Shabaam Sahdeeq, Skam, Kweli, and Spinna
ring
Roll through the hood on them gold thangs
Now it's world war 3 in them streets
Ain't gone never have enough police
Picture I relax, relate,
ring
Roll through the hood on them gold thangs
Now it's world war 3 in them streets
Ain't gone never have enough police
Picture I relax, relate,
The Independent Market
Written by J.Robinson, J. Holliday
I've got these songs that I finished and I need to put them out
So I'm setting up shop
copped a body, it's time to get rid of it
Nigga act hard he get popped like a Ritalin
Just went to church but I know I'm gon sin again
Damn J Sesh can't
MCs, how? To rhyme first
Of course you rap last, so you can show off your skirt
I guess it didn't work on "4 3 2 1"
You got out done by
I've clowned for years, and y'all could never fade my peers
One two three four five six seven nine, ten, Eiht you can't win
'Cause all the way around
where they chop up the crack in
Meet me at the mall round 3 by the bathrooms
Money then I'm gone disappear like its magic
Cut em off pay a fee now he
to stop Trillville and Three 6, Hell no
I know by now someone told you about the cracker in Memphis
Three 6 picked up two years ago, the shit was
talkin' 'bout Rolls Royces nigga, what else woe?
Dope dick, back seat, front seat
Since I came in the game, you niggas philosophies changed
J
bottles came, poured a swimming pool
Now we 'bout to dive (that's right)
Got one room, got three bitches
Nigga, damn right, the way it's supposed to be
its back to the boards to prepare the next round.
he was the son of a preacher man,
every Sunday at the pulpit his daddy stands,
raised by the church
MCs, how? To rhyme first
Of course you rap last, so you can show off your skirt
I guess it didn't work on "4 3 2 1"
You got out done by
I guess it didn't work on "4 3 2 1"
You got out done by Canibus the young gun
Your last weapon, is to call out Wyclef Jean
Not knowing that you
paid
Copped a clean white tee with them fresh Air J's
I ain't got the Charger, I got my bitch Escalade
Sippin' on that Grey Goose and some damn
stupidity
By the way, you gangsters should know
One of your victims was a three-year-old girl
Well, you gang members, you
Still don't get it, do ya?
(With
killing the game, and lately I've felt inadequate
So I took hip hop by the throat so I can have my own stab at it
I wish before sleep I could think about
Sl-sl-sloppy haters shouldn't mess
Walkin' by your lady and I'm sorry if I took her breath
You was just baby, crying til you was shook to death (bitch)
Fade
three
When the D called me, and told me, we must be
Lyrically, the best that he says, the
K N O see K, and S and K, it's spray
Comin away, the B.T.J., it
Unphased by all elements
Ice, fire, earth, and air
Our final location, the underground
Deep, deep underground
We plant our seeds for tomorrow's resurrection
Are you having a good time?
Dancing in my revelation
Underground pop civilization walk to
The left at right
Concrete poetry to feed my mind nods
Old
Quand le R prend donc le mic
C'est des bonnes vibes
Face au FN, pas d'détail, pas de stand-by
Compiler plein de MC sur un thème
Haine, peine vaine,
to stop Trillville and Three 6, Hell no
I know by now someone told you about the cracker in Memphis
Three 6 picked up two years ago, the shit was
to stop Trillville and Three 6, Hell no
I know by now someone told you about the cracker in Memphis
Three 6 picked up two years ago, the shit was
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