Wake Up Show, Blu - Blu Wake Up Show Freestyle 2005 lyrics
[Wake Up Show, Blu - Blu Wake Up Show Freestyle 2005 lyrics]
You swore you was the dopest vocalist till
I came and spit that hot shit
Dropped it with Metropolis to
Melt your fiber optics just for ice grilling
The mic villain up every night
Killing the bombest beats with cinematography
Done by Hype Williams
I like feeling like having the best
Passionate sex my trigger happy ass
Be classy like a Jag or a Lex
I stand grand like a man
You just a fag in a dress
Catch me fitted nightly with Nikes, my cap
And my sweats relaxed at my desk
Pen and pad rapping my text
Writing about cars, clothes
Bitches and cashing my check
Like cats in the West
To ever stay strapped with a vest
Better believe I gotta dark side like
The back of your neck packed with a Tech
Blasting if you asking for death
Sack full of stress
Sky-high flag in the West
I’m scratching your decks
First Funk Master the Flex
Steady laughing at these rappers gasping
Asking the rest
Smash your set, plus with? the vet
I blast past your whole staff and
Pause to catch my breath
Smash on set, even crash the last two-step
Garbage disposals
Whack rappers are trash unless
I have interest
My minimal will match your best
So you think the rules done changed, mane
Ask the rest, my class is vexed
You need to get your glasses checked
Cause when you focus right mind
You never have to guess
We passed your test, J Barnes demand respect
I ain’t check nothing less than
What the fans accept grand by stress
Pumping what the fans suggest
So if the question’s in my
Heavens then the answer’s yes
Ain’t no commercial interruptions
This is branded best
I’m fully clean like the soap
Commercial man for Zest
I might take shit in but never stand for less
I came and spit that hot shit
Dropped it with Metropolis to
Melt your fiber optics just for ice grilling
The mic villain up every night
Killing the bombest beats with cinematography
Done by Hype Williams
I like feeling like having the best
Passionate sex my trigger happy ass
Be classy like a Jag or a Lex
I stand grand like a man
You just a fag in a dress
Catch me fitted nightly with Nikes, my cap
And my sweats relaxed at my desk
Pen and pad rapping my text
Writing about cars, clothes
Bitches and cashing my check
Like cats in the West
To ever stay strapped with a vest
Better believe I gotta dark side like
The back of your neck packed with a Tech
Blasting if you asking for death
Sack full of stress
Sky-high flag in the West
I’m scratching your decks
First Funk Master the Flex
Steady laughing at these rappers gasping
Asking the rest
Smash your set, plus with? the vet
I blast past your whole staff and
Pause to catch my breath
Smash on set, even crash the last two-step
Garbage disposals
Whack rappers are trash unless
I have interest
My minimal will match your best
So you think the rules done changed, mane
Ask the rest, my class is vexed
You need to get your glasses checked
Cause when you focus right mind
You never have to guess
We passed your test, J Barnes demand respect
I ain’t check nothing less than
What the fans accept grand by stress
Pumping what the fans suggest
So if the question’s in my
Heavens then the answer’s yes
Ain’t no commercial interruptions
This is branded best
I’m fully clean like the soap
Commercial man for Zest
I might take shit in but never stand for less