trap.
02-03-2013, 03:03 PM
Equation:
i’m one of the best heads
stick you for your credit cards and S S
thread’s chappelle’s block party 2, let me introduce the dead prez
whatever’s your best’s less, don’t ask for none of that leeway junk
so i break both of ya legs and start blastin DJ Unk
have you seeing double, make you feel like it’s a threeway, uh
i’ll grab ya fro and flip ya head till you look like freeway’s son
just in case you didn’t catch it, let me remind ya, boy, listen
i’ll make ya head flip like joe dumars, detroit pistons
don’t just kill christians, equal opportunity hater, trust me
i’m so bad, there’s buzz that the devil’s afraid to cuss me
you can’t touch me, not on my level, i battle beasts
you can’t even touch me if you went from rev to cathlic priest
you think ya savage? please. you think that ya militant?
i’m not the only muslim
who recites verses
before killing it
you can try to be diligent, just understand that i’m villainous
how you gonna box with me when ya arms shorter then kevin willis’s
Rev Prez:
Any dream you had of walkin away from round two
ends now...No wonder trap had to mark me down two
I shoulda left you in the gutter I found you in
Stick to text, son...I ain't above scrapin garbage off of the soundproofin
The only thing you got in common with Don Rawlins and Charlie Murphy,
besides barely working, is you hardly worth it
Rev ain't Chappelle, so get the fuck off my nuts, son
Just take the handicap and walk if its double or nothin
And if you voters out there wanna cause trouble or sumtin
Be warned...my beef lasts for a couple of months
And E don't believe that this life is real
That same line of thinking put La Russa
behind the wheel
scammed Illa into thinking that his rhymes was ill
and probably taught Fifty Cent it's all right to squeal
What will E say when that pipe he feel
inchin up his ass crack starts to grind his filth?
The Internets is Tubes, son...not a dump truck
you jump on swinging nunchucks, you dumb fuck
This math is wasted differentiating Equation
with just the pen and the paper, I'd separate his brain stem
in broad daylight, with witnesses to the facelift
so long trap's etched my check out by the arraignment
Try sumtin...I shit on shifty-eyed Muslims,
bomb Hebron and stomp on your fifty-five cousins
Let me stretch E and Muqtada al-Sadr tom'arrah
Bury both colla deep, in hollow of pigs' feet
Insh'Allah, fuck that, if God willin at all
E will bow before Jesus by the end of the song
i’m one of the best heads
stick you for your credit cards and S S
thread’s chappelle’s block party 2, let me introduce the dead prez
whatever’s your best’s less, don’t ask for none of that leeway junk
so i break both of ya legs and start blastin DJ Unk
have you seeing double, make you feel like it’s a threeway, uh
i’ll grab ya fro and flip ya head till you look like freeway’s son
just in case you didn’t catch it, let me remind ya, boy, listen
i’ll make ya head flip like joe dumars, detroit pistons
don’t just kill christians, equal opportunity hater, trust me
i’m so bad, there’s buzz that the devil’s afraid to cuss me
you can’t touch me, not on my level, i battle beasts
you can’t even touch me if you went from rev to cathlic priest
you think ya savage? please. you think that ya militant?
i’m not the only muslim
who recites verses
before killing it
you can try to be diligent, just understand that i’m villainous
how you gonna box with me when ya arms shorter then kevin willis’s
Rev Prez:
Any dream you had of walkin away from round two
ends now...No wonder trap had to mark me down two
I shoulda left you in the gutter I found you in
Stick to text, son...I ain't above scrapin garbage off of the soundproofin
The only thing you got in common with Don Rawlins and Charlie Murphy,
besides barely working, is you hardly worth it
Rev ain't Chappelle, so get the fuck off my nuts, son
Just take the handicap and walk if its double or nothin
And if you voters out there wanna cause trouble or sumtin
Be warned...my beef lasts for a couple of months
And E don't believe that this life is real
That same line of thinking put La Russa
behind the wheel
scammed Illa into thinking that his rhymes was ill
and probably taught Fifty Cent it's all right to squeal
What will E say when that pipe he feel
inchin up his ass crack starts to grind his filth?
The Internets is Tubes, son...not a dump truck
you jump on swinging nunchucks, you dumb fuck
This math is wasted differentiating Equation
with just the pen and the paper, I'd separate his brain stem
in broad daylight, with witnesses to the facelift
so long trap's etched my check out by the arraignment
Try sumtin...I shit on shifty-eyed Muslims,
bomb Hebron and stomp on your fifty-five cousins
Let me stretch E and Muqtada al-Sadr tom'arrah
Bury both colla deep, in hollow of pigs' feet
Insh'Allah, fuck that, if God willin at all
E will bow before Jesus by the end of the song