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Lyrics » Letter : D » Artist : DJ Clue? » Classic Verses (Drop It Heavy and Fantastic 4) Lyrics

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Classic Verses (Drop It Heavy and Fantastic 4) by DJ Clue?القصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Classic Verses (Drop It Heavy and Fantastic 4) by DJ Clue?

     

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Yo, my squad is honored like Elijah Muhammad
But I'm God-retarded, ain't no righteousness in this heart of violence
Hard as diamond but I'm in the ruff, listen up
If you ever see me with the Feds you can bet it's in the cuffs
Ain't no snitch in us, bitch in us
Unofficial-ness, everything we outside you wish you was
Official thugs in the drug profession
Drug connections, drug addictions
Still seein' the judge for drug possession
The four-D's, all these is more reas'
To either get big, or leave and let live
We the best there is T.S., ain't nobody else
We probably Dove, 'cause we all way on top of the shelf
I'm lockin' your wealth with the master keys, freeze
Don't try to breeze, or I'ma squeeze and blast the back of your knees
Just pass the cheese, please don't test the toaster
My tech'll roast ya body faster than Ferrari's Testarossa
You're gettin' closer to death, Reaper's got a hold on your breath
You goin' straight to hell as you sell your soul for your flesh
You was posin' a threat, now you froze in the bed
Minute ago, you was poppin' shit, holdin' ya dick
Now what's the problem, you ain't nothin' like you said on your album
I thought you was wildin bustin' your guns and runnin' the island
You wasn't violent, you was silent tryin to get college credits
How pathetic, did it to get out of the calisthenics
I'm "Dianetics" combined with lyrics
My matureness is my insurance
Kill my appearance, I'm a shinin' spirit
You gotta fear it, 'cause every last gem is poison
You gotta cheer it, you can't win you better join 'em
I'm head-annointin' niggas like the Holy Gospel
I'm the only vato loco to smoke you with fire-blowin nostrils
Watch for the toast, when you see it, you better draw yours
Warlords, callin' The Giant, it's all yours

Fuck all y'all non-believers; I roll with God, the Squad and T.S.
Out with the B.S. we platinum, they even doubted Jesus
Niggas is 85percent, I'm 400 solid
Brain-bolic with knowledge, cock-diesel scholars
Holdin' it down, walkin' around with gold by the pound
Frozen and drowned with diamond boulders all in the crown
Talk of the town, soakin' you down with toast 'til you drown
Ghost you and pound your corpse with a force that'll open the ground
Save the jokes for the clowns, I'm on the serious tip
You keep playin' and I get furious quick
And now I take you for a walk through the ghetto
Either spark your metal or get outlined in chalk by the devil
I rep the borough that mothered this rap shit, I used to clap shit
Now I just lay back and mack on some mack shit
I used to have to pack a mac in back of the Acura
Now I relax and stack platinum plaques in my shack
It's like that, but don't think I won't counter act
My niggas is strapped and quick to lay a bitch on his back
I'm swift with the mac, quicker than Kung Fu
With the reflexes of a cat, and the speed of a mongoose

Writer : IFILL, KEN/SHAW, ERNESTO/RIOS, CHRISTOPHER
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

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