MusicGu.ru

Here come the jams, yo punks, guard your domes

Its the man with the mad new styles and funky poems

So strike one, strike two, strike three, youre out

Of luck, jack, fuck that, grab your nuts and shout

(aint you the masta? ) yep, Ive always been

And then, Im a stab a fucking critic with his pen

So write that, put that in your magazine and stick it

Im wicked, just like a witch when I kick it

So break out your charts and scales and try to rate me

Give me a one, son, yep I hope you hate me

Cause Im a keep on bringing it, Im swinging it

Sharp like glass til your punk ass is swinging it

Riff-raff, your whole damn staff I have to cut up

I drop bombs, Im fatter than your moms, so what up?

I come from the planet of raps on, oh yeah

Beam me up steady, theres no skills down here

So there, you little punk sitting in your chair

Soon youre gonna know the score kids, I swear



(aint you the masta? ) yep, Im the masta (repeat 4x)



I hits you hard kids, youre barred from the mic and

Rhymes kick like pele, rough like a dyke and

Praise me, masta, off beat, the healer

Rap styles deisel like an 18-wheeler

So get that weak style out of my path

Im turbo, I drop lines long like nostran ave.

So danger, Im burning from monday to sunday

Im hot like some niggas 10 deep in a hyndai

So make way, I drop mad heavy like the fridge

Im sacking, youre wack and youre over like the bridge

This little rabbit tried to diss me, but fuck it

I got duckets, one day that rabbit kicks the bucket

You know (I know) you know (I know)

You know, you know, well yo follow where I go

Jane, stop this crazy thing if I sing

Some love shit and dress mad fly, Id be the king

And be seen on the covers of like 27 books

But Im too proud to beg, so suck this, you crooks

Youre only as good as your last jam, its true

Your shits new, everybody wants an interview

But then, oh how quick they forget

With no hit, they like "whos that? " they full of shit

And straight up, my patience is starting to wear short

Im gonna land blows like your head was an airport

Say cheese you theif, let me see your teeth

Cause Im ultra-magnetic, magnetic like kool keith

So abra, cadabra, presto and change-o

The off-beat, on-beat style is kinda strange yo

It dops here, it drops there, its off then its on

To the breaka, to the breaka, to the breaka of umm dawn

Here I come with bones by the sack for

Spraypaint, I tage my f-ing name on your back, punk



(aint you the masta? ) yep, Im the masta (repeat 4x)

Here come the jams, yo punks, guard your domes

Its the man with the mad new styles and funky poems

So strike one, strike two, strike three, youre out

Of luck, jack, fuck that, grab your nuts and shout

(aint you the masta? ) yep, Ive always been

And then, Im a stab a fucking critic with his pen

So write that, put that in your magazine and stick it

Im wicked, just like a witch when I kick it

So break out your charts and scales and try to rate me

Give me a one, son, yep I hope you hate me

Cause Im a keep on bringing it, Im swinging it

Sharp like glass til your punk ass is swinging it

Riff-raff, your whole damn staff I have to cut up

I drop bombs, Im fatter than your moms, so what up?

I come from the planet of raps on, oh yeah

Beam me up steady, theres no skills down here

So there, you little punk sitting in your chair

Soon youre gonna know the score kids, I swear



(aint you the masta? ) yep, Im the masta (repeat 4x)



I hits you hard kids, youre barred from the mic and

Rhymes kick like pele, rough like a dyke and

Praise me, masta, off beat, the healer

Rap styles deisel like an 18-wheeler

So get that weak style out of my path

Im turbo, I drop lines long like nostran ave.

So danger, Im burning from monday to sunday

Im hot like some niggas 10 deep in a hyndai

So make way, I drop mad heavy like the fridge

Im sacking, youre wack and youre over like the bridge

This little rabbit tried to diss me, but fuck it

I got duckets, one day that rabbit kicks the bucket

You know (I know) you know (I know)

You know, you know, well yo follow where I go

Jane, stop this crazy thing if I sing

Some love shit and dress mad fly, Id be the king

And be seen on the covers of like 27 books

But Im too proud to beg, so suck this, you crooks

Youre only as good as your last jam, its true

Your shits new, everybody wants an interview

But then, oh how quick they forget

With no hit, they like "whos that? " they full of shit

And straight up, my patience is starting to wear short

Im gonna land blows like your head was an airport

Say cheese you theif, let me see your teeth

Cause Im ultra-magnetic, magnetic like kool keith

So abra, cadabra, presto and change-o

The off-beat, on-beat style is kinda strange yo

It dops here, it drops there, its off then its on

To the breaka, to the breaka, to the breaka of umm dawn

Here I come with bones by the sack for

Spraypaint, I tage my f-ing name on your back, punk



(aint you the masta? ) yep, Im the masta (repeat 4x)

Адрес электронной почты		example@domain.ru
Код заказа		999-999
Нажмите после заполнения
Пожалуйста, вводите корректный адрес электронной почты, так как на этот адрес будет отправлена дополнительная ссылка на загрузку выбранной Вами песни. Если был указан неправильный адрес электронной почты, вы можете его исправить. Для исправления адреса электронной почты отправьте электронно письмо в службу поддержки (support@musicgu.ru). В письме укажите полученный Вами код и корректный адрес электронной почты. Отправляя сообщение на один из предоставленных номеров Вы подтверждаете свое согласие с Правилами использования сайта и Пользовательским соглашением.