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Natti |
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too many niggas talk hard then shit bricks when the beef hits |
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fight night, where you? behind another nigga like a eclipse |
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real cats throw down while you hide your paws |
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you as soft as the gauze paramedics gonna wrap 'round your jaws |
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how you act up, don't back up your words just your nerve |
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in a room full of goons, you and your crew are hors d'oeuvres |
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please, don't act like no killer if you ain't no gorilla |
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real apes break limbs and your heart got sap flowing in it |
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let me pull you off to the side so you get slapped for a minute |
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you plus a sort a nigga don't equal Popeye on spinach |
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ooh, who told you that? that's for show lose (?) rap |
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i'll take my knuckles and make you a brand new hat |
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look too hard for beef end up with a brand in your back |
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take a stand or take the stand and say he did that |
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it's your choice my friend, this your voice my friend |
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that's done got you inside this predicament |
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Deacon |
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hold out your mouth buncha bitches and ho's |
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the realest of real niggas know how this goes |
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talkin although like you control the scene |
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you're mean, but what does this mean? |
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big mouth, e'ry right, e'ry fight a nigga there front door |
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it's the gatin' like Satan but facing no blows |
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you talk it but beat around the bush like a lez' |
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no Grandmaster Flash, never been round no ledge |
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so you beat on the girls, beat on your chest |
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but when she get tense a nigga be on his best |
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a bit of suspense a nigga be in his dress |
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see stress, you turning princess |
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(what do you do?) |
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hate let people know you a tool |
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and Jonas brothers all rock harder than you |
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so you, cold front like the leader of cool |
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and a king in the legion of fools |
