Cappadonna, Rush, Real Life, Money Grip, King Just - Get Mine 2005 lyrics

I'm like the phantom of the opera
Last of the lobsters
The trees from the rasta
The smoke at the Oscars
Blaze at the Emmy, yo fuck the nominees
Starving artist, nigga
Who spittin' rhymes like these
Please show me, youse a nigga 'pared to Kobe
Obi Wan Kenobi, Bevery Hills, ask a foley
Fast or slowly, I leave your shirt holy
Or push a 500 like co-d, life acapulc-ky
Now ya'll niggas playing low key
Be the fake baller
And that pussy broad owe me
Rap trophy, got it, in every fucking lobby
Hit you up, my product
And we gotta split the profit
Put a record out, and I'mma stop it
West in the bank, I got it, KJ drop
Nigga cop it
I ain't got too much more to tell you
Bring ya Rambo life to Park Hill gun play
Act gay with features, and your punch lines
You want
Permanent punch time from Optimus Shine
We the guidelines, promatic, calling you back
And let the world know, who
Taught you how to rap, you hear that?

One, two, three-in, lump out your chair
Three, five, seven, me'll leave out your hair
It's no use, call the cops nigga
Know it's loose
All I'm leaving them is pulp
Playing no juice
Empty out the safe, and it's condiments
Nine caught 'em til
Sun light shine through 'em
Son school 'em, I order more rounds for ya
Oreo's with a little short sound for ya
Excuse you, why you steppin' to the don, for?
Gat palm, crack longer than an encore
Free and bust, try to indict, me and Crush
Cheese cops, cuz I'm in oh deep, got
Comcast, love the way I harm tracks
Put you out there, know we got contacts
Cap peeled, tell me how that blast feel
That steel, got 'em laying in his last meal
Bezzy, vest make me look top heavy
Don't wonder on the war, you are not ready
Listen how I abuse tune
Leave a body in ya backpack
It's gotta be a boom boom

Mr john Machanro
Pass the dough with a fast flow
Fidel Castro, with the lasso
Roppin' you 'victs
It's portable, sick of the Source
I'm rip 'em off
From long range, scum stains on your corpse
Fear, now get in, where I fit in, stay fitted
Real Life means real living, Any Give Sunday
It's a gun day, one way
I'mma pay ya all back someday, dum dums spray
I can walk the walk, and talk the talk
Fifteen downs in the State of New York
Fucking ya whores, ya'll here suck on tour
I'll be waiting down south with
A nine into your bulge rhymes pour
Since alotta shit change in the game
I'mma re-arrange, mask style, things ain't
Gon' be the same, Homicide range
Real Life, nigga, respect my name

Yo, only the strong survive in
This wild world of raps
Where pussy cats bunt for my rockwell raps
You can't hack this criminal style of combat
That came through
Got 'em and drew on horseback
Raw hide's the way I rip guys, and then slide
Roll up and snatch yo shine, like it's mine
Yo this mine, nigga
Like the thoughts from my mind
Slid your river side, like the crimson tide
You out your line of scrimmage
I'm blind to your image
Bust nuts on yo hype
All night til I'm finished
This not what we finished
I hold the world record
For knocking off eight MC's in twelve seconds
You flirting with a loaded weapon
That splittling backs like a mack eleven
While you blastin' yo gats at heaven
I'm living like you owe me something
But really you don't owe me nothing
I'm taking everything coming
Call me selfish, and I leave you helpless
Rotate two, and predict your pelvis
I smell shell, hit these rap niggas out there
Sniffin' in my kitchen like it's
Cooty in the air
You'll find nothing here but
Hard rock niggas
Hard cock niggas, rob ya-block niggas
Peel your ho niggas, steal your dough niggas
And when I blow nigga
I'm bringin' more niggas