Print

(feat. Promatic) [DJ Butter scratches a sample] "BIATCH" [Proof talking] This is what they need to know They need to know this is some sick note shit They need to know that shit, this is also some Promatic shit ya hear me Dogmatic and Proof ya hear me, on top of that it's some Detroit shit And some DJ Butter shit, we don't like you, shit happens Esham we don't like you ICP we don't like ya'll [Proof] Lets go back before rapping, mixing, toasting, and dubbing When I was making bread without a loaf in the oven I'll snipe at the closest of your cousins Bitch you're gonna post up for fucking See that, I don't do that Blew back your wig, that's how new Jacks get did That's how the few tracks is, kickin new raps for ears Ya'll ready to die like Big recorded When your flow is shit regular, when rig is morted father Kids deported, I rig the borders I swallowed the weed and jumped the bridge's shoulders Letras de cancionesPlayas that run the D don't use words Like "Shhhhhh" ya heard Proof is now on its own, for now known I'm a grounded mole, while I plow your home Spit flames now nigga your brows are gone You ain't shit; I'm a thousand miles from wrong I'll eradicate your molecules and even if your mamma swallowed you Or your pops pulled down on you, I don't like you Overnight hypes with mics that have pity little trife fights with dykes Have mountain climbers try swap the pipes Bloaw then it's the worst night of your life Over my first, niggas are high from this shit You don't even hear the boom cause you die from the clip [Chorus: (Proof) and Dogmatic] (Cause you bitches) don't like you Matic don't like you, we don't like you "BIATCH" Proof don't like you, Matic don't like you We don't like you "BIATCH" [Dogmatic] Yo, live from Detroit it's Saturday Night As I bite down on theses shrooms, I'm bound to fight Snatching ice on sight (Bitch it's Devil's Night) Give me fifty cent worth of gas and a rag to light (We blowin up your house) you think we playin (WE BLOWIN UP YOUR HOUSE) you know what I'm sayin You're an accident waiting to happen And just as soon I'm finish rappin, my 380 is about to start clappin You better hope that I'm high when I see you And if I'm high I'll still gonna walk by and see you And if I'm sober it's all fuckin over You better hope you don't see the Matic no more You get your little ligaments tore have your jaw sore Attack your whack ass like a fucking wild bore Punk the hardest nigga treat him like a whore My face in the dictionary under hardcore Kick in the door waving the four-four All you heard was Matic don't hit me no more Punch him in the nose and shoot him in the shin Let him know me and those hoe niggas ain't friends "You little Bitch" [DJ Butter scratches a sample] "BIATCH From Letras Mania