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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: JuJu, Psycho Les, Fashion, Al' Tariq, Q-Tip & Rakim
Lyrics:
Number One Competition is none
Niggas got me steamin', 'bout to flip my lid Fuck around, and I proceed to blow your back out, kid Boom - not to say I'm on a violent tip But my hand stays on my gun, in case you start some shit
'Cause I been rhymin' since way back when Straight up and from the heart is how it's always been Now punk niggas wanna test me But all that tiggedy-tiggedy tongue-twistin' shit don't impress me
It's just a phase, and you know damn well That you'll fall off in a minute, 'cause that shit don't sell Funny how you think you could surpass me, or outlast me With that bullshit style, you're fallin' fast, gee
See, I suggest you go back where you came from Your mic, and my mic - come on, don't play, son
See, the days of payin dues is over I'm a little fed up, and it's time that I show ya We battle one time, you're dead, no sequel
Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal
You know we're number one Competition is none
The wiggedy-wicked Psycho Les drops it like a lunatic Steady back-breakin' bitches with my super dick Hat's on the jim, sometimes I nut in em St. Ides fucks up their eyes, and I bend 'em
Down, while I'm flowin' to this nutty sound Open up the knapsack, check out what we found Horns, bass, lines Beats get chopped in the Nut Shop, we don't waste time
Yo, I'm 'cold lampin' like Flavor Floatin' at the top while you're sick, and 'nothin can save ya' Just like the Biz said Remember - uugh - styles I drop to be, what is it?
The shizzit - word to your mama I bend your girl like a comma Due to Lambada, I think I gotta Stop, because the bitch said, So I nutted, and I got out
Boom - no matter how hot you claim to be, you can't roast this Nut, what's up? You wanna get eaten up like a hostess? 'Cup', 'cake', you know my words are lethal Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal
Every line I connect, my literature's perfect Per minute, per second, and yo, you gotta reck- On with Fashion, 'cause by the way I'm rippin' things Whoever thinks I take a loss has hamstrings
Young dames, I shoot 'em and Jimmy aims to knock her Sex with this flex, best thing tends to lock up Yeah, really bad ass, smokin' past you niggas The chicks I stick shit with, I love your figures
Triggers, I pull em with no remorse for bodies Fash pumps the hotties, chumps pump with shoties Shoot 'em up, bang-bang! Miss targets rarely Mics I touch up, I fucks 'em daily
Barely another who can test the cool Fash Asses I kick in the ashes, dumpin' trashes So don't riff, 'cause I flow swift like the Nile, son Tame is for plain Jane fame, I'm a wild one
Automaticly I let loose the Fierce MC-i-n-g force in me Cool Fash, sendin' a blast to rap people Your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal
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