Blase Blah (2 Fat Guys and a Track)

  • 2013.08.07
  • 3:56


Ursula, where you at? Aiyyo Dan, where you at? Yo, nobody in here but me and Taj July 23rd, watch me do it Now.. I flips like a stack of flapjacks from IHOP, when I rock If a foe tries to flow, I cast the glow like I was Tim-ex Ease through MC's like a breeze through the trees He who disagrees please, hit the knees complain to deez Well, you know the rest but might not know Kwest, pleased to meet you If I defeat you at least you been beaten by the best Yo.. dammmm SKIP I be riding my own dick Those with that fly shit up in they head, get domes swollen quick Competition best pray for repentance, can't mention my name Without one of these words in a sentence: Fat, Live, Lovely, Butter -- Bad Nice Nasty Wicked Raw yeah there's a lot of others Don't really know where my flow comes from yo, I just think Open my mouth and mmmmmm there it goes On the real to get with this you must be fast If your rhyme don't shine like mine, I get some bread for your dusty ass You better exit cause boy it gets hectic and I start to flex kid And wipe a big fat booger on your best shit I mean, how can you be expected to step up and wreck shit When the track was fat, but your raps is anorexic? Word to my momma bring drama and get trauma I'm a heavy bomber When I get a little bit of hit of marijuana Quick to let the gun smoke, no joke so don't provoke Ask Gimmy how the slimmy be, cause Gimmy got his neck broke Takin props non stops is how I operate, Hobbes My words stick witcha and fuck witcha like some transit cops So I suggest you find God or somethin, cause like Whitney Houston said "You have nothing, nothing, nothing for me!" I kept it clean but it coulda got gory You bore me there's the door G period end of story Ooh, I like that.. now let's see what else we can get into Now umm, A is for Apple, J is for Jacks But I got more flavor than that shit so go get your money back The skinny nigga's on the lam, so hold your daughter ma'am I WHAM! I slice that ass so fast you'd think it was a Christmas ham Shit gets flam when I start to rip shop, too large to drip-drop So I pour, the more, hundred proof, type umm, hip-hop Cute like a baby monkey lyrics got to be funky Long and lanky kinky never stinky don't wanna get chunky Pump me when I get out, cause without a di-doubt You think I'm a maniac mobster the way I put hit after hit out My A& R man tries to sham, he'll get his heart bit out The company must have been constipated.. ..cause it took em a long time to get my shit out! But now that my product's on the market, it's time For a new flame to spark it, and my target Is your ear, I wanna bust lyrical nuts on your drum And I'll be comin on your brain cells when I come Word up, sometimes I swear to GOD I think I'm a nut The type to walk into a room full of diesel niggaz and scream "WHAT??!!" Smoke a L, drink a Stout, then flip the fuck out Runnin up on homeless people askin, "Who's in the house?" Slick like Olive Oyl so tell Popeye to go up on the pu-tay I can get peppy or sleepy but not wimpy like Bluto I get scrappy with a script flipped here, a script flipped there Here a script, there a script Til you be like, "That kid's the shit!" I know where my hoes goes when the hoes clothes goes off Go to a show and show my flow off for dough but never flow a doze-off Oh, wanna hear some shit that's funny? I'm SO skinny That if I sent my picture to Somalia, they'd send me money Hula-hoop with a Cheerio and I can probably dodge raindrops If I had dreads I could be a mop, okay enough brain STOP Wear my jeans droopy cause I'm not lacking in the Snoopy Never had a hooptie already got a group of groupies Either catch me girl hawkin, shoppin party stalkin Or on the phone talkin, or checkin the latest raps on my Walkman Slide up in the clubs with BUTTER shit on See how many hookers I can hit on If there's a mic I'm like, "Can I get on?" Finessin with no type of stressin, peeps be requestin Kwest In every session but I gotta ask a few questions Before I get in, or I Jet-son, hey yo George How's the spot, is it hot, is it well done, is it raw? What's the four one one on hotties? Do they got bodies? Someone gettin bizem with ism or smoke is there Coke and Bacardi? Is security loose like a hoe or tighter than a virgin? Can I risk bringin a biscuit or can my shorty get hers in? Yo that's how it runs it's all about gettin loot, gun, hons and fun From down sun to up sun Can't forget the lyrics cause that's my bread and butter, I make bread When I'm butter and wicked like a muhhhhhhhhhfucka! The nucca's top choice, even though I got tight-drop voice Rhymes tasty like Duncan-Hines, I puts lots of funk in mines No real reason for this rhyme, but then again it is a rhyme Without reason, big up to Southside and Riker's Isle, guess I'll be breezin That's how it goes, July 23rd I flip shit and remember alla that was off the top of the domepiece kid Big shout out to everybody from Southside, 105, 106, Liberty, Suston? Baisley? and all that, and I'm up out this piece Representin kid, representin


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