aus dem Album: Fatty Girl Freestyle 12" {www.flavatown.com}
Songtext:
Fuckin' with skillz, you gon' meet ya doom Klebefolie Matt Nigga I spit fire that make dragons wanna leave the room I put VA on the map, open the south When I spit, bitches open up they legs or they mouth And ya mans wanna battle, but I aint let him I dont know who can see me, cuz I aint met 'em Man these cats aint thugs they fools I take ya bandana, wet it, pop you with it like we did at the pool When I start smakin' niggas they gonna see who rule Cats callin' Tawkus up like "I thought he was cool!" Yall reefer seeds, I'm a block of raw And when I spit the words, they lock the jaw And I plan to win, when I bomb the sound So a if thats ya mans and them, calm 'em down I warned you clown, I'm heatin' up in degrees I have you singin' bout fallin' like Alica Keys Man these fuckers and ballers, they scrubs First muh'fucker tried to sneak a slerpie in the club Ya not "supa", we aint close to friends And I throw away dubs like broke the rims You gotta be twins, you look as broke as him When I get in the game, expect a broken rim I'm a shot caller, with no excuse to brawl Got well known rappers wishin' they could shoot ball You at ya mans house, bald with shoes I'm on some rims that go backward when the car dont move Bitch at the light, I thought I stopped her heart She saw the wheels, got scared threw her car in park I'm the type that has BET seein' me as a threat You the type to tuck the coogie down in ya sweats P.diddy run the city, thats his claim to fame? If he moved to VA, he'd change his name I dont like rappers, stay out of my sight If I give you dap, you better use that hand to write Yo the words I spit, could charge ya whip I let yall talk slick, but thats as far's its gets You aint gotta gun, you aint gon blast the 8 You a punk, you got ya hype man ass in ya face Ask around, I'm a basket case I got words that make a nigga in a casket shake What the hell you gonna tell me kid I get ya chick in ya crib, like I was kelly and you was Mr. Biggs Pull off and bust on her back Tell ya ass yo, goto the studio and rap about that Niggas talk how they flow so well But they hooks be garbage, guess what you aint gon' sell I'm east but I'm slightly south Nigga I got Jordans that'll make mike cus Nike out But when I'm jig, you got to feel me The gators so live the crocodile hunter tried to kill me I told him, "Steavy dont even try it." Slapped him with the pistol and said "be very quiet" I aint got time for yall Two way me with letters dog, cuz i aint got time to call If you drop on my Tuesday, you wont win Put a chip in ya phone, call a million of ya friends Tell 'em to cop it again, make sure its in the mall Play Russian rullet until ya manager call Belive me dog, cuz I'm real You built to spit but you aint built to spit with Skillz I'm the best that ever did it cuz I aint gotta get Nate on a hook to give westcoast love I strut through any hood I was fuckin' in Miami, yall was down there duckin' Suge So tell me whats good, what ya life be bout Suge got you shook, fuck you doin' shoutin' him out? You aint down, start slidin' nigga I already gave you pound, STOP DICK RIDIN' NIGGA You a grown man you need to stop it Skillz represent, buy the album when I drop it
