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Brooks: Yo, we recording? Dude: Yeah Brooks: Ok. Hold on a minute. Lemme stretch out. B to the r to the o to the o to the k to the s to the B to the u to the f to the o to the r to the d Yeah, God straight fucked up when he made me Yeah go head buck up grab that mic Don't give a fuck if you scream all night You ain't no rapper, quit that shit Stick to surfboards, suck my dick I came to clean house, punch and roundhouse Rhyme and run mouth, straight from down south That's why all of y'all punks got dropped I'll be the first to say, "Fuck rap-rock!" I'm pumpin' OutKast and Goodie Mobb What U know about La-Di-Da Boogie Down and the history How y'all came up a mystery I've lived this hip-hop shit my whole life And it almost took my life I die for this, bleed for this You want this, I need this Let the world go to hell, I'll still fill notebooks And I know just how that coke cook Couldn't come thru the front so I came thru the back Letras de cancionesWith a band and a bottle of Jack Dog, I ain't stupid, go ahead let's freestyle I'll be havin' you lookin' like a shit pile The ATL version of 8 Mile With a jumpsuit dipped in argyle Bangin' four or five ho's in the back of a Rodeo Driving down Rodeo With a shot gun in my mind MD 20/20 one more time One more flow, one more show One million hundred ninety-nine to go 'Keep it real'. Naw, fuck that, make money And try to buy up the whole country Ain't afraid to die so punch me Even rhyme with my head cut off like a chicken, stickin' to my dreams Everything ain't what it seems Come on dummy, run that game Southern boy with a brain You all slept didn't you Whole bunch for me, none for you I really hate to rub it in But I got all my publishing, that's right But anyway bustin' on this mic Better than smokin' on that pipe Some they hate, some they like Some they talk, some they bite Monday morn' to Sunday night Let's get this party started right? Wrong! Break that bong, sing along Do a line til the break o' dawn, til the money gone Back up that buck, it's mine again Hijacked a truck of Heineken Looks like it's time for a line again And how bout five Kolonapin And I start to grin and I start to dance I'm speakin' in tongues, takin' off my pants I'm blowin' my whole goddamn advance And we ain't gonna stop 'til the ambulance From Letras Mania