Versuri C-rayz Walz - Guns and butter
[C-Rayz Walz]
C-Rayz, guns and butter!
Go back upstairs, eat your mac cheese and fishsticks
You not 50, you gon die tryin to Get Rich
I spit sick, my lungs disease is from Asia
My LPs a Funcrusher too, my Fantasias
Roy Jones, knock opponents and ball too
Im a MC! (Yo!) What the fuck they call you?!
Pussy, my grammars truth yall
You wanna be a player, just to dive for loose balls
Dickhead - come out your face, say somethin slick
My lines get all up in your ass, like your uncles dick
That chick said youre a small piece of wood
stuck in her fingertip (huh?) Little prick!
You aint even on my sons level, he just a little sick
This aint really nuttin devil, its just a little bit
Illegitimate trip through my scenic path
If I really spit, the kids would hate english class
Do the math, my science will blow up your lab
Slow up your staff, I laugh at your arts and crafts
You ass, smelly socks and jocks, gym trash
Drag past those who study honies with drab bags
Son you, have your moms yellin HEY THEY +BAGGED-DAD+
Come through, bomb you like schools in Iraq
Dumb dude, in fact you fiction, mouth be spittin
Raps collapse your ear where waxll stack, listen
Drum tap, young cat, old vision, soul glisten
Gun clap, one track mind, rhyme whole rhythm creatin
Instead of waitin, refrain from thought patterns
Of your dame givin me crazy brains like horseradish
[Chorus]
Get those props, follow my light
Spit so hot, last week I had to swallow my ice
We end the year with a token ending, swollen sentence
Off the chain like a stolen pendant
Get those props, follow my light
Spit so hot, last week I had to swallow my ice
In the gutter where suckersll cut ya, mothersll hug ya
It all comes down to guns and butter
[C-Rayz Walz]
I already seen a mill/Amil, but you aint even heard me yet
She moves well without the +Roc+ like the Jersey Nets
You cant, get in the game, your position is lame
Stay on the bench, enjoy the wood you Marc Twain character
Im holdin back! So I wont melt the polar caps
So good off the top, my hairlines growin back
I make sense/cents now, Ill make dollars later
Holla hater, catch a scratch from the Cut Creator
These is Reebok lines, they supposed to be pumped
And get your smoke for free, like promotional blunts
Your style standard, my style is simply candid
I dont jerk off no more, I came empty-handed
Honeydip said you spit like you sprayin a clip
And wipe my mouth off with tissue, I be sayin some shit
So you can stack cracks, clap gats or rap
We where the wild things are, and its a fact I max
Subtract the whack, now divide the stacks
Multiplied by the feel of the real, and Im back
And my DAT contains the masters, so I maintain disaster
Polly with NASA, master tracks
Anything less than that? Im bridgin the gap
Like African tribes, I got pussy sewed up, its a rap
But if its that deep, dap me, clap me too
I fear none of you characters, like Scrappy Doo
Cmon, put em up! Make the rumors greater
My names fate, we gon meet up, sooner or later
Give you fools +Juelz+, like a Santana verse
And wreck the beat til your bandana burst
[Chorus]
upped by Haya
Versuri : C-rayz Walz - Guns and butter uploadate de catre foca.
