Ursula, where you at?
Aiyyo Dan, where you at?
Yo, nobody in here but me and Taj
July 23rd, watch me do it
Now.. I flips like a stack of flapjacks from IHOP, when I rock
If a foe tries to flow, I cast the glow like I was Tim-ex
Ease through MC’s like a breeze through the trees
He who disagrees please, hit the knees complain to deez
Well, you know the rest but might not know Kwest, pleased to meet you
If I defeat you at least you been beaten by the best
Yo.. dammmm SKIP I be riding my own dick
Those with that fly shit up in they head, get domes swollen quick
Competition best pray for repentance, can’t mention my name
without one of these words in a sentence:
Fat, Live, Lovely, Butter — Bad Nice
Nasty Wicked Raw yeah there’s a lot of others
Don’t really know where my flow comes from yo, I just think
Open my mouth and mmmmmm there it goes
On the real to get with this you must be fast
If your rhyme don’t shine like mine, I get some bread for your dusty ass
You better exit cause boy it gets hectic and I start to flex kid
And wipe a big fat booger on your best shit
I mean, how can you be expected to step up and wreck shit
when the track was fat, but your raps is anorexic?
Word to my momma bring drama and get trauma I’m a heavy bomber
when I get a little bit of hit of marijuana
Quick to let the gun smoke, no joke so don’t provoke
Ask Gimmy how the slimmy be, cause Gimmy got his neck broke
Takin props non stops is how I operate, Hobbes
My words stick witcha and fuck witcha like some transit cops
So I suggest you find God or somethin, cause like Whitney Houston said
“You have nothing, nothing, nothing for me!”
I kept it clean but it coulda got gory
You bore me there’s the door G period end of story
Ooh, I like that.. now let’s see what else we can get into
Now umm, A is for Apple, J is for Jacks
but I got more flavor than that shit so go get your money back
The skinny nigga’s on the lam, so hold your daughter ma’am I WHAM!
I slice that ass so fast you’d think it was a Christmas ham
Shit gets flam when I start to rip shop, too large to drip-drop
So I pour, the more, hundred proof, type umm, hip-hop
Cute like a baby monkey lyrics got to be funky
Long and lanky kinky never stinky don’t wanna get chunky
Pump me when I get out, cause without a di-doubt
You think I’m a maniac mobster the way I put hit after hit out
My A&R man tries to sham, he’ll get his heart bit out
The company must have been constipated..
..cause it took em a long time to get my shit out!
But now that my product’s on the market, it’s time
for a new flame to spark it, and my target
is your ear, I wanna bust lyrical nuts on your drum
And I’ll be comin on your brain cells when I come
Word up, sometimes I swear to GOD I think I’m a nut
The type to walk into a room full of diesel niggaz and scream “WHAT??!!”
Smoke a L, drink a Stout, then flip the fuck out
Runnin up on homeless people askin, “Who’s in the house?”
Slick like Olive Oyl so tell Popeye to go up on the pu-tay
I can get peppy or sleepy but not wimpy like Bluto
I get scrappy with a script flipped here, a script flipped there
Here a script, there a script
til you be like, “That kid’s the shit!”
I know where my hoes goes when the hoes clothes goes off
Go to a show and show my flow off for dough but never flow a doze-off
Oh, wanna hear some shit that’s funny? I’m SO skinny
that if I sent my picture to Somalia, they’d send me money
Hula-hoop with a Cheerio and I can probably dodge raindrops
If I had dreads I could be a mop, okay enough brain STOP
Wear my jeans droopy cause I’m not lacking in the Snoopy
Never had a hooptie already got a group of groupies
Either catch me girl hawkin, shoppin party stalkin
or on the phone talkin, or checkin the latest raps on my Walkman
Slide up in the clubs with BUTTER shit on
See how many hookers I can hit on
If there’s a mic I’m like, “Can I get on?”
Finessin with no type of stressin, peeps be requestin Kwest
in every session but I gotta ask a few questions
before I get in, or I Jet-son, hey yo George
How’s the spot, is it hot, is it well done, is it raw?
What’s the four one one on hotties? Do they got bodies?
Someone gettin bizem with ism or smoke is there Coke and Bacardi?
Is security loose like a hoe or tighter than a virgin?
Can I risk bringin a biscuit or can my shorty get hers in?
Yo that’s how it runs it’s all about gettin loot, gun, hons and fun
from down sun to up sun
Can’t forget the lyrics cause that’s my bread and butter, I make bread
when I’m butter and wicked like a muhhhhhhhhhfucka!
The nucca’s top choice, even though I got tight-drop voice
Rhymes tasty like Duncan-Hines, I puts lots of funk in mines
No real reason for this rhyme, but then again it is a rhyme
without reason, big up to Southside and Riker’s Isle, guess I’ll be breezin
That’s how it goes, July 23rd
I flip shit and remember alla that was off the top of the domepiece kid
Big shout out to everybody from Southside, 105, 106, Liberty, Suston?
Baisley? and all that, and I’m up out this piece
Representin kid, representin
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