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(talking:) |
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Yeah Chalie Boy, K-Rino let's get em |
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(K-Rino:) |
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I'll drag you 'cross the water, from Houston to Israel |
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I'm a seven course gourmet feast, you a kid's meal |
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Take a sledge hammer, and damage the frame of your Caddy |
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Embarrass you, and make your own kids ashamed of they daddy |
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The people asking you questions, you answering none |
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Out of the trunk, selling mo' junk than Sanford and Son |
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You thought testing was a smart move, now you feel dumb |
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Like the Texans stupid ass, for not drafting Vince Young |
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(Chalie Boy:) |
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You opened the door so here I come gunning, no time for no battlers |
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Me and the Time Traveler rattle ya, with a perimeter |
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Batter ya boy let's chatter yuh, leave you for scavengers |
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Adding you to the long list, of dismissed wanna-be challengers |
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Haven't ya realized yet, all that talk make me aggressive |
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Dig in your chest bring the broad out you, like some kind of decongestive |
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Material imperial mind, your flow is repossessive |
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It ain't the fact that you're whack black, I'm just very impressive mayn |
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(Hook: x2) |
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Come on down, to Texas partna |
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Tight flows, or anything you need we got ya |
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Serving you, Southern hospitality proper |
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But know this, you step out of line we drop ya |
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(Chalie Boy:) |
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The chorus and rap singing, a Don is |
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Verbally I astonish, get you hooked on my phonics |
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K-Rino spitting that plain flame, I soulfully punish |
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You trapped in a web's game, and into the eyes of who's punint |
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Locked down we run it, hands down no question |
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6'4 with a 5'5, wild child mic molesting |
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Bark like Mr. Smith, bite like Wesson |
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Professor ay step up, and get taught a top flight lesson |
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(K-Rino:) |
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I laugh at ya, K-Rino the paragraph smasher |
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Catch you eating, snatch the food off your plate and won't even ask ya |
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If we bet who raps can outlast, you'll be a cash passer |
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One of the first, still one of the last of the ass thrashers |
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I'm down with Chalie Boy, if he call me I'm in his corner |
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Twenty thousand yards away, take off sprinting and run up on ya |
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I vacation in my own hood, keep the Bahammas |
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We got mo' flows, than a welfare office got baby mamas |
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(Hook x2) |
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(K-Rino:) |
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I break a microphone is half, like the leg of Joe Theisman |
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If words was rushing yards, I would probably win the Heisman |
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Me temp is rising, your chance of survival is barely breathing |
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You telling lies with your hands on the bible, you damn heathen |
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I verbally, and verbally capture ya |
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Hit your car simultaneously, word slapping the driver and the passenger |
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You talking like a pimp, but you steady tricking homes |
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I be on your gal all night long, like a Cricket phone |
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(Chalie Boy:) |
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Etching my name in history books, walking amongst legends |
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A part of a coalition, Texas ghetto street reverends |
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Chargers the game like Tomlinson, send you packing like Levans |
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Have you struggling to survive, like James and Florida Evans |
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Darkness about to set in, prepare for the on start |
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Shaking like a child fooling with a pit, just got his arm caught |
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You weak I ain't say that, that's what your mom thought |
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You bring a threat to me, like them nuclear bombs Sadaam brought none |
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(Hook x2) |
