J.R. Writer - Control Yourself lyrics
[J.R. Writer - Control Yourself lyrics]
Uhh get in tune with a spitter
Excuse me I'm sicker
What you divin' in ain't a
Pool full of liquor
You rap like you used to share
A room with your sister trap life
We lookin' at two diff'rent pictures
You animal food i'll be damned if I lose
To the cat that lost to
The Charles Hamilton dude
How could you claim you nice
You let him take your mic
Middle of your rap
Couldn't even say it right
Must be gettin' high
Thinkin' you as sick as I
What tracks you killin'
You wouldn't kill a vibe
You went in why? Take a
Stroll thru writer's block
Use your Gemini's-
You don't see I'm twice as hot
You sound weird when you jump on the verse
Nigga I'm outchea when it comes to the first
Bundles of work (that crack)
Ya'll gon' make me duct tape Mr
Duckworth into dump what he's worth
Get a pushed wig-
You don't know what good is (why)
Like your first album title you's a good kid
Time to show this amature a lesson-
His whole schemes are full
Of bad cannabis impressions
A Big L offspring, I off kings
Tim Dunc when he's balling- false ring
Act silly- get lapped 'till the track dizzy
Twist straps that'll smoke you
I call 'em the Black Hippies (blah blah)
Debt it this justice is poetic-
I'm dumpin' the pump until
They yell cut, nigga, no credit's
You know you haters frontin'-
How could he be claimin' somethin'?
When all he do is switch his
Flow and don't be sayin' nothin'?
I sketch draw time to let the lead pour
Watch them niggas hauled when it get
Messy at the mess hall dead raw
Ya'll gon' hafta beg more- you rappin-
I'm metaphor punchin' niggas' heads off
What you gon' tell a don
I gotta check a pawn?
Just put a check up on his head
That nigga dead and gone
How could you tell me 'wrong'?
Dominicans don't wish that you
Was born there
They wish that you was never born
What's his Twitter?
Send this body to this nigga- on Control?
You named everybody but the spitters
(like what?) like I ain't right here
In my Nik' Airs- white pair-
I'm the Harlem nigga in your nightmares
You really ain't hot i got this thang locked
Buncha hard bars, I don't need to name drop
Banks stop- everytime I aim shots-
I just had to school boy
He ain't know how J rock
Excuse me I'm sicker
What you divin' in ain't a
Pool full of liquor
You rap like you used to share
A room with your sister trap life
We lookin' at two diff'rent pictures
You animal food i'll be damned if I lose
To the cat that lost to
The Charles Hamilton dude
How could you claim you nice
You let him take your mic
Middle of your rap
Couldn't even say it right
Must be gettin' high
Thinkin' you as sick as I
What tracks you killin'
You wouldn't kill a vibe
You went in why? Take a
Stroll thru writer's block
Use your Gemini's-
You don't see I'm twice as hot
You sound weird when you jump on the verse
Nigga I'm outchea when it comes to the first
Bundles of work (that crack)
Ya'll gon' make me duct tape Mr
Duckworth into dump what he's worth
Get a pushed wig-
You don't know what good is (why)
Like your first album title you's a good kid
Time to show this amature a lesson-
His whole schemes are full
Of bad cannabis impressions
A Big L offspring, I off kings
Tim Dunc when he's balling- false ring
Act silly- get lapped 'till the track dizzy
Twist straps that'll smoke you
I call 'em the Black Hippies (blah blah)
Debt it this justice is poetic-
I'm dumpin' the pump until
They yell cut, nigga, no credit's
You know you haters frontin'-
How could he be claimin' somethin'?
When all he do is switch his
Flow and don't be sayin' nothin'?
I sketch draw time to let the lead pour
Watch them niggas hauled when it get
Messy at the mess hall dead raw
Ya'll gon' hafta beg more- you rappin-
I'm metaphor punchin' niggas' heads off
What you gon' tell a don
I gotta check a pawn?
Just put a check up on his head
That nigga dead and gone
How could you tell me 'wrong'?
Dominicans don't wish that you
Was born there
They wish that you was never born
What's his Twitter?
Send this body to this nigga- on Control?
You named everybody but the spitters
(like what?) like I ain't right here
In my Nik' Airs- white pair-
I'm the Harlem nigga in your nightmares
You really ain't hot i got this thang locked
Buncha hard bars, I don't need to name drop
Banks stop- everytime I aim shots-
I just had to school boy
He ain't know how J rock