Skillz - Move Ya Body lyrics

On the real
I freak techniques and beats in my sleep
The mack back in action show
Skills when I speak
Watch my shit leak when I
Bring it to your face i still corner dimes
But in the nine I'm on a paper chase
Glass rocks, mega tops, Tims on your block
Holding heat like crock pots and
Keeping g's in my socks
(So, what's up, hopps?)
I got to keep it tight like seams
Cause ain't no fiends
Coming in between me and my dreams
See what I mean, black?
I keep it real like that f a "word is bond"
I need stocks and bonds from these ill raps
Rappers won't see me with contacts, friend
So, please
Act you've got a Siamese twin and think again
Cause in the end I start off with flavor
Next to bless your chest
With freestyle fantasia smooth behavior
Seeing rappers as illusions
Meaning they disappear but I'm hear
To keep you moving

Everybody, move ya body!
Everybody, move ya body!
Everybody, move ya body!
I don't think twice, kid
You know I bring it to ya live

See, I don't get writer's block
Yo, I block other writers
And there's been nights I had to
Wear sniper attire for biters
Don't make that same mistake and get scarred
Retard i see that tape you listening to
Got you thinking that you hard but dig this
Cut your hair and get your
Name on your stomach
I still find ways to make
Your whole rap career plummet maintain
I steal mics out of the frame
But now people think they know me
Cause they know my real name
While I stay same doing shows and tours
Somewhere in a phat whip playing
Sega in the dashboard
Styles of sword and flowing steadily
Trapping MCs in mazes forever
Like Frankie Beverly you know the steeze
I'm bringing beats to they knees
Holacausting MCs and sees some
G's before I breath that's how it be
It's no doubt that I
Got to bring it to your chest as
I bring it to ya live

So, from this point on until the
Day that they bury me
I'll still be on a hunt
Trying to snatch this currency
Putting my peeps on while friends turn fake
They get pissed thinking I be in
Switzerland checking some real estate
Dropping LPs every year
Somewhere in a mansion with a
Butler named Vincent Jeffrey Belvadere
I'm rare but, rappers ain't trying to hear
The reason why their girl freestyled
Her number in my ear
It's my year, son, and I ain't trying to slip
I'm trying to collect props and get
Not to stretch money clips honey-dips
I keep 'em on like low end so, f five-o
Illegal, so we don't got to go there
It's so unfair how I do wack crews shady
They want to be next up
Their style sucks like a new baby
They can't faze me mics and man fusion
Beats I keep bruising
Do your thing and keep moving