Intro:
This motherf**ker man!!!! won't shut up will you?!!
Talkin 'bout I owe him, b**** you owe me, I'm promotin you right now
Yo let's put the nail in this coffin
Chorus:
I don't wanna be like this, I don't really wanna hurt no feelings
But I'm only being real when I say
Nobody wants to hear that grandfather rap
And old men have heart attacks, I don't wanna be responsible for that
So put the mic down and walk away
You can still have a little bit of dignity
Verse 1:
I would never claim to be no, Ray Benzino
An eighty three year old fake Pacino
So how can he hold me over some balcony
Without throwin his lower back out as soon as he goes to lift me
Please don't you'll probably fall with me
And our a**es'll both be history
But then again you finally get your wish
Cause you be all over the street like 50 Cent
F**kin punk p***y f**k you chump!!!!
Gimme a one on one see if I don't f**k you up!!!!
Tried to jump the Ruff Ryders and they cut you up
And you put Jada on a track that's how much you suck d***
In the industry, swear that you in the streets hustlin
You should be on a f**kin desk at The Source butt kissin
And beggin motherf**kers for guess appearances
And you can't even get the clearances
Cause real lyricist don't even respect you or take you serious
It's not that we don't like you we hate you period
Talk about a midlife crisis damn
Last week you was shakin Obie Trice's hand
Now he's a busta, what the f**k's with that
Get on a track dissin us kissin 50's a**
And askin me what I know about indictments bite me
B**** I got two cases and probation, fight me!!!!
What do I know about standin in front of a judge like a man
Ready to take whatever sentence he hands
What you know about your wife slicin her wrist
Right infront of the only thing that you have in this world
A little girl, and I put that on her, when this is all over
I would never try to make her a star and eat off her
I don't know s**t about no choppin rocks
But what you know about hip hop shops rockin spots
When your the only white boy up in that b**** just rippin
Pressin up your own flyers and your stickers stickin
Them pictures up after spendin six hours at Kinkos
Makin copies of your covers of cassette singles
To sell 'em out of the trunk of your tracer
Spendin your whole pay check for disc makers
What you know about being bullied over half your life
Oh that's right you should know about that your half white
Vanilla Ice filled of beans and rice
I'm eatin you alive inside, Jesus Christ!!!
If your that much of a gangsta, put the mic down
You should be out killin motherf**kers right out
Kill a motherf**ker dead!!!! Kill 'em dead b****!!!!
Shoot 'em in the f**kin head!!!! Go ahead b****!!!
Slap my mom, slap the f**k out of her!!!
She can't sue you, she wouldn't get a buck out of you
Cause your broke as f**k you suck, your a f**kin joke
If you was really sellin coke
Well then what the f**k you stopped for dummy, if you slew some crack
You make alot more money than you do from rap
You'll never have no security, you'll never be famous
You'll never know what it's like to be rich life's a b**** ain't it
Raymond, here let me break this s**t down in Lamen's terms for you
Just to make sure that you can understand
That's if Canibus ain't usin too many complicated f**kin words for you
Here let me slow it down for you so that you can understand
If I say it slower, let it go dog it's over
Chorus:
I don't wanna be like this, I don't really wanna hurt no feelings
But I'm only being real when I say
Nobody wants to hear that grandfather rap
And old men have heart attacks, I don't wanna be responsible for that
So put the mic down and walk away
You can still have a little bit of dignity
Outro:
Talkin 'bout, I had motherf**kers callin your crib
B**** you ain't got a f**kin crib
you ain't even got a f**kin phone, f**kin bum!!!
Threatenin to, shut me down at your little f**kin Source magazine
If I come back on you and attack you
But you attacked me first take it like a man and shut the f**k up!!!
And f**k your little magazine too!!!
I don't need your little f**kin magazine, I got XXL's number anyway
And y'all can't stand it cause they gettin bigger than y'all
Oh, and by the way, how I looked on the VMA's? When you was watchin me From, whatever f**kin tv you was watchin me from, in Boston
The mean streets of Boston, f**kin sissy
Then you got us standin up here motherf**ker
Suck our mothef**kin d***s!!! oh, and for those that don't know
Don't get it twisted y'all, The Source has a white owner! |
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