Demigodz, The
Well, Well, Well
Well well well well well wellHey yeah ay ya yaYou better know now or know howWe so foul and profoundBlowouts, CD's sold out, the illest no doubtWhen "Celph Titled" roll out, immaculate respect"Uzi's" and "Tek's" protect your neck with a teflon turtleneckBitch there ain't a diesel cat that could face meYou don't really want to run your mouth and make meSummon the gods with my mystery chantAnd perform the running-man for my victory danceMurder motherfuckers mostly over money with guns to they tummiesHollow-tips that leave you stiffer than a mannequin dummyRecord a demo while the "Demigodz" make new songsYour better off running the triathlon with parachutes onA real bug-nigga, and that's how I'm better knownYou make beats, I'd rather rhyme to a metronomeOther crews got ego's but can't floss rightI'll run them over have em' smoking the exhaust pipeWell well well well well wellHey yeah ay ya yaLetras de cancionesAlready proved that all my rhymes are wicked enoughThey sleep when you on the mic your fucking "Jigglypuff"A big kid jail-fuck, I don't want to grow upAnd I don't care what he says yo he can suck a know whatI'm bigger than that, smile when you kicking my rapsHave conversations with your girl while she sits on my lapYo stop talking about they girls man it's starting to get oldWell, um, no tell they girls to stop leaving they clothesThe reason I flow, is not to just get us indoorsPops in barber shops like my son is better than yours'Cause and effect, "Rise" is the effect and the causeAll those who came before I just perfected they flawsPerfect with clause I have to be look at my townNeglecting the laws of gravity, I'm not coming downThere's cops on the ground, that look like dots on a mapFrom the level of where I'm at when I'm dropping, you whackWell well well well well wellHey yeah ay ya yaI rock rhymes that blow ends, drop lines like gold friendsPull dimes that start trends, while your trying to make amendsYour girls be like you want it, all fives and no tensActually the wrong one, you bust with small gunsI look like an MC who murders the spotLike "Derek Jeter" looks like a smaller version of "The Rock"Bitch please, I never ever met a dick-teaseI'm so cool that when I spit free's my spit freeze"Old Yeller", I'm known to leave a fellaWith more cuts and scratches than the "Shook One's" acapellaYou want to fuck around with "Esoteric"And blown on some bullshit like working-dice-creditWhen rappers try, they usually step and dieThen MC's get the message like a number I don't recognizeYour call her back, pop minds they hear me freestyleAnd spend the next seven days hittin' redialWell well well well well wellHey yeah ay ya yaI keep the planet under my spell, under my reignI stay on tracks, while throwing rappers under the trainI'm numbing your brain, stunning you while tonguing your dameI appreciate her, everything that's under her brainWhen reciting it's lighting with thunder and rainA "Demigod" that's beyond your small blundering brainsFortunate fame, really it's just one in the sameThat I obtain while your still a bum begging for changeTrying to front like your new and really nothing has changedYou ain't underground, your locked in a dungeon with chainsYour not a thug 'cause' you rock your little "Lugz" and a chainI'm a slug, nah fuck that, I'm double the painYour hussling game is lame, couple bucks and a nameMaybe some buckets of champagne with sluts in the rangeI'll fuck with your brain and flex so your muscles are strainedUntil your nothing but a punk clutching crutches and canesWell well well well well wellHey yeah ay ya yaWell well well well well well
From Letras Mania