Man, niggas said uh, intense ain't hip-hop.
Why don't you show these niggas what hip-hop is?
I'm about to show a nigga what hip-hop is, man.
Give me a motherfuckin' beat or something, man.
You know what I'm sayin'?
Act busy, intense, CNT.
You doin' it B.I.G., feel me?
You know what I'm sayin'?
You know it's pimpin' when I pimp my pen.
Feel me?
Feel me?
But uh,
man, niggas know for doin' this *.
I'm about to murder an MC. Murder an MC.
Murder an MC. Murder an MC.
Murder an MC. Murder
an MC. Murder an MC.
Plan of a soldier, I managed to hold you.
My iron slanted from those of cannons for Cobra.
Watch the planet get colder.
My lyrics make you rap fantasy over.
Can it be yoga?
Flexible next to blow the beat like you managed Jehovah.
Got heat for haters, make you meet Jamaica.
Big you like a sweet potato.
Lyrics creature-tailored, I'm a freak of nature.
I teach a fake edice to make you wake up.
I need some paper for I blow the place up.
Punish him and hold my weight up.
I swore they never stop me, nor contain me.
No money, they willful.
Franklin, my portions, enormous fortune.
Up north, we resort to training.
Torch the game and lead the courts aflame.
And torch the chamberlains with all sorts of game-changing.
Man,
how many MCs must get this before
they recognize don't * with Chris?
And yeah, see I sound a little unrational.
A lot of MCs like the use of the word
dramatical.
Press like the key, motherfucker.
It's act bad and I'll be murdering MCs.
Murdering MCs.
It's act bad and I'll be murdering MCs.
Murdering MCs.