That's The Nigga Letra

Microphone check (what), check oneMicrophone check (what), check twoMicrophone check (what), check threeMicrophone check (huh), check fourWhat chall niggas wanna do, how yall wanna do it?Huh, check oneKick this shit rawThat's the nigga (8X)Turn your hands towards your ass and say bye byeFrom the southside, southside, puff, ya ya yaNothin but the fiya yaEardrums snatchin champion cheap rhyme busters till the day I dieI say I lieBitch I'll be fuckin on your grave singin ay la baI throw em off, I'm two scoops for coo cooI swoosh through your froot loops, poo poo in your fubuYall niggas remember what happened to that mosquitoTweeter tweeter MC, the sweeter I'll read ya meterStop your water turn off your gas cut off your lightsMove you out, cut your grass, watch your kids, fuck your wifeLike a bacon, egg and cheese sandwihc I'm goodMm hmm, like syrup on the biscut and orange juice couldCome and take me by the hand and walk yaI'm the thief in the night that slide your droors off yaWatch where ya steppin I'm a verbal weaponBring more pain then when John Wayne came on old westernsWhat is the actual fuckin meaningI come in this bitch, without leavin this bitch that think we leaningIt's been like that since way backI used to rock eight tracks before I rocked eight decksConcepts goin stay fat, concerts goin stay packedOwnership's goin stay black, nigga this is paybackI scrape ya somethin crawlin to establishmentNow I'm country club livin from the scribble scrabblin my talentProper proper droppin somethin decentYall niggas is as fucked up as Santa Clause for easterI'm a keep comin as long as KLC keep drumminAnd the only way to stop me is call the people for meFuck them people, I'll fuck over you if I have toThat's the nigga, that's that bastardThat's the nigga (15X)Who that say they can't sale boy?They the third ward huh, the 12th ward for all y'allMy dogs, my boys and my hogsGutiers on these boys and get down and go offAll sides get high when they ride to my wordsThey mine and they high when I'm live in concertStop what your thinkingThis ain't no showoff of my businessI don't need nine or ten pack of rappers with meI'm independent, make frontin, stuntin suckers lose thier stomachThey lose their clout, their coolAnd after I come in the cut they lose thier womanHello ghetto fabulous and big mansionsAnd fine fabricsLike a man much money comes automaticYou don't wanna battle with a hardcore rhyme fanaticFull speed ahead vocabulary acrobaticThat's him, that's that rapperThat's the man, that's the niggaThat's that bastardThat's the nigga (5X)