Ultramagnetic MC's, Goody-2 - Nottz lyrics
[Ultramagnetic MC's, Goody-2 - Nottz lyrics]
Yeah'! Hehehehe, uh huh, uh huh
We bouts to get gutter
You know what I'm talkin 'bout son
We takin this back to the STREETS
(To the streets) on some
Ultramagnetic heat (caliente)
Ced Gee, Kool Keith (Goody-2) drop it
Yo, feel me, here we go check it, uhh
We gotta rock, Nottz is in our pocket
I'm more tragic with the treats
Than a cheap critic
On the net, talkin shit, downloadin beats
Piss on the type of nigga
That won't go the distance
Take his girl to the World Serious
I'm behind homeplate you thrifty bastards
Sit in the bleacher seats
With secondhand pre-washed jeans
And hippie coats on
Alternative clothes, I never seen
That shit ain't the STREET!
All you discount bargain hunters
Fuck up the game, and make rap weak
The previous albums
Those are the tracks I leak
I save all my good stuff
Little pieces of shit don't deserve to
Hear me at my peak
Mountain niggas with climbin gear
Suck my dick and hop in the back of your
Cherokee Jeep with Cherokee beeps!
I know I come steep, the Ranger Rover
Play Sesame Street niggas out like
Oscar the Grouch and Grover
See bitches wigs in the middle intersection
Back up the track and I roll over
You know me! I don't give a fuck who you wit
I murder you, your crew
And all those fools you wit
I blast shots from my 9, 'til I move ya kid
Aim one for your head
Then three to your ribs
You talk a good one son
But all that shit is fibs
Your time is up in this game
You got a short time to live
Your whole career, was nuttin but hype
Your whole career
You talked about your silver
And called it ice your whole career
Was sold out for a very low price
Your whole career
Your stupid ass couldn't get your
Couple of weak lines right
Son are you tryin to fuck with me tonight?
(Nahh Ced
They ain't fuckin with you tonight)
Goody-2
You say you loco, think weed out ? pojo
Four cuatro, a couple of rhinos in the barrel
I don't think this asshole is
Gonna be here tomorrow
Definitely, I be reppin the Boogie Down Bronx
My method will be
Lethal weapons of word destruction
And I'm growin up lyrically
Y'all niggas can't do shit to me
Y'all can't leave dawg
Your girl be missin me
Pissin me off, have her go back
Cryin to your door
I won't stand there stressed
Especially for broads
I'm not the nicest, I'm one of the best
You fuck with me I put
Exaggerated holes in your chest
I make your lung feel the
Wrath of my lyrical flow
And the heat of the beat by who do you know
You know i said fuck all you bitches that
Don't think I'm the one
If you pass by my block
Then I'm pressin you son
I understand why this shit is
So hard to grasp
You in my class, I'm goin fast
Leavin you last look at me now
285 pounds - cats is weak - ohhh
We bouts to get gutter
You know what I'm talkin 'bout son
We takin this back to the STREETS
(To the streets) on some
Ultramagnetic heat (caliente)
Ced Gee, Kool Keith (Goody-2) drop it
Yo, feel me, here we go check it, uhh
We gotta rock, Nottz is in our pocket
I'm more tragic with the treats
Than a cheap critic
On the net, talkin shit, downloadin beats
Piss on the type of nigga
That won't go the distance
Take his girl to the World Serious
I'm behind homeplate you thrifty bastards
Sit in the bleacher seats
With secondhand pre-washed jeans
And hippie coats on
Alternative clothes, I never seen
That shit ain't the STREET!
All you discount bargain hunters
Fuck up the game, and make rap weak
The previous albums
Those are the tracks I leak
I save all my good stuff
Little pieces of shit don't deserve to
Hear me at my peak
Mountain niggas with climbin gear
Suck my dick and hop in the back of your
Cherokee Jeep with Cherokee beeps!
I know I come steep, the Ranger Rover
Play Sesame Street niggas out like
Oscar the Grouch and Grover
See bitches wigs in the middle intersection
Back up the track and I roll over
You know me! I don't give a fuck who you wit
I murder you, your crew
And all those fools you wit
I blast shots from my 9, 'til I move ya kid
Aim one for your head
Then three to your ribs
You talk a good one son
But all that shit is fibs
Your time is up in this game
You got a short time to live
Your whole career, was nuttin but hype
Your whole career
You talked about your silver
And called it ice your whole career
Was sold out for a very low price
Your whole career
Your stupid ass couldn't get your
Couple of weak lines right
Son are you tryin to fuck with me tonight?
(Nahh Ced
They ain't fuckin with you tonight)
Goody-2
You say you loco, think weed out ? pojo
Four cuatro, a couple of rhinos in the barrel
I don't think this asshole is
Gonna be here tomorrow
Definitely, I be reppin the Boogie Down Bronx
My method will be
Lethal weapons of word destruction
And I'm growin up lyrically
Y'all niggas can't do shit to me
Y'all can't leave dawg
Your girl be missin me
Pissin me off, have her go back
Cryin to your door
I won't stand there stressed
Especially for broads
I'm not the nicest, I'm one of the best
You fuck with me I put
Exaggerated holes in your chest
I make your lung feel the
Wrath of my lyrical flow
And the heat of the beat by who do you know
You know i said fuck all you bitches that
Don't think I'm the one
If you pass by my block
Then I'm pressin you son
I understand why this shit is
So hard to grasp
You in my class, I'm goin fast
Leavin you last look at me now
285 pounds - cats is weak - ohhh