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lirik lagu dj self - rawkus wreck

dj self ft. g-fella, buckshot, mos def, treach, and sh-lls – “rawkus wreck”
[emcee(s): g-fella, buckshot, mos def, treach, and sh-lls]
[producer(s): [?]]

[verse 1: g-fella]
tony soprano rock jeans, bringing in rac–ns
rap with a sonny mentality like, “put him in the bathroom”
have six of your friends holding your casket. i was
selling ecs’ and the birds in the hood thought it was aspirin
don’t make me have to take this fun out. it takes the
fun out, and you’re embarr-ssing yourself when your rhymes run out
‘cause if i go to the jag, guaranteed, it’d be
wiping your foolish mind off this floor with a rag
your mistake was mistaking me for a white-boy, cheddar rhyme
when my fam go back to the [?] time
my [?] nothing but guns and pesos
and my men come together in a snap like legos

[verse 2: buckshot]
my lyrics cause protests, fires, riots, and
fights. a lot of these n-gg-s is kind tonight
yeah right. you never heard another emcee like
me in your life. see me and your wife with
buck in a b-m-dub, two subs in the back of a
box. i’ll jump out like jack-in-a-box. show you
cliques that are slapping this glock. you n-gg-s get slapped
in your mouth and asked, “what you yapping about?” n-gg-
life is real, life is ill. n-gg-s who
can’t afford jewels got to ice their grill. that’s why i
rep buckshot and duck down the same
and i’m o.p.p., out for putting in pain

[verse 3: mos def]
i’m like a
shot glock, above the game
f-ck dave stern. i’ll run the game, move these weak n-gg-s
from my lane. they get their penny hearts clutched in
pain. the uninformed can’t discuss my name. and if
so, they get touched by flame. raise my mic like
the snub i aim. sniper fire with that one-eye
aim. brook vietnam is what i claim, so buck
asking y’all, “what’s my name?” i’ma tell y’all why the
f-ck i came: to bring history from my
grain and make the weak leave because i came. never
tried to be what i ain’t because what i
am got you asking who the f-ck i am. got your
chick trying to clutch my hand. but, ma, you know how the
f-ck i am. just ask h. mcdutch, my man
real rider, don’t discuss my plan. two-
-double-o-deuce. don’t disrupt my fam, you under-
-stand?

[verse 4: treach]
if it ain’t
buckshot, toast next with mos def. there’ll be
no rhymes, no tracks, and no treach. i’ll lick
two br–sts, two necks with two tecs, bless
moët, alizé, henny. the bx asked me
‘bout a p-rno. in slow-mo, triple-x, i said
“suck me. [?], self, and mcduffie.” buck’s next, so i’m
buckwild. i’ll puff wild, so [?]
[?] you’ll moan from the bone ‘til your big t-tty bounces
i love the haters. arm, leg, a leg-a. f-ck
around with all my boricuas by the bodega
(maricón!) if you ever hear that dj self [?]
[?]

[verse 5: sh-lls]
ayyo, ayyo, it don’t take
much for the kid to wile out these days. y’all only
thug when y’all in the booth or on stage. me?
without the gauge, that ain’t possible. front on
the kid, a few hours, found in the hospital. dudes
know my name now. what block you pitching? my coup
don’t drop—it’s just that the top is missing. sort of
like the rap game: the top is missing
why’s that? ‘cause pun, big, and pac is missing
shorty opened off the watch, how it shines and glisten
you can tell they work harder at the diamond district
chicks give me play now. i be hardly macking
and my chain stands out like urkel gl-sses

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