lirik lagu buddha monk - the get down
[intro: dee]
these fake -ss n-ggas better recognize
ya’ll don’t know about the squad
yo, yo, yo
[dee]
ya’ll n-ggas wanna get it poppin’ off?
son, i spit with the force like a 44 shot let off
believe me, my automatic tongue don’t jam, i never heard of this man
but i’m about to murder this man, a verbalist man
equiped with metaphors, that spit that ill sh-t
you and your cl!ck couldn’t deal with me, uh
my murder cl!ck, me, g, kwan and face
never hesitate to make sh-t up like pool tape
you need a miracle f-cking with this imperial n-gga
that’s mad lyrical from the physical to the spiritual
sixteen bars of h-ll, on dateline
once the track split, i react and rape the b-ssline
[chorus: q-plex]
yo, we spit one, clip one, hit one
you missed, son, send a kite to get done
as long as the clip run, we bound to make it stick, son
we done when the clip done, never run when the clip, done
[g-note$]
lay the smackdown on clowns, we can get down, however
you wanna do it, with guns, rhymes, beats
yo, the stove taste better than your flow, pa
you sound like a b-tch, your mic sk!lls wear bras
yeah, you lyrical, n-gga, but that don’t mean sh-t
i rock street, it’s nothing to make a hit song
you know how i do, i gets it on and popping
i know how you do, rocking thong thong thongs
i write like a beast, king kong, kid
me and my n-ggas spit verses back and forth like ping pong
ring the f-cking alarm, it’s fire in here
we evaporate all that bullsh-t you spit
go back to the lab, meditate, dig in the crates
you need to sample some james brown, and f-ck with these sounds
you know how i do, it’s g-note$, the hottest n-gga out
no doubt, it’s nothing
[chorus]
[babyface fensta]
i keep it thorough, rep my borough to the fullest
you ain’t the illest or the realest
you ain’t a k!lla, you inc a murda
you think, your pen’s explosive, you ain’t ready for war
i give it to you raw like wwf
you stone cold, like the rock?
it doesn’t matter, do you smell what’s cooking?
your -ss is gr-ss, you just a preliminary bout
i’m the main event, your figures ain’t major
you a c-minor, you all sound like little jigga’s
since the death of biggie, everybody jiggy
wake up, smell the coffee, you commit suicide
for silver and tails of gold
my n-ggas want platinum plaques, f-ck that
i’mma sell out, i want all my products sold out
[chorus 2x]
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