lirik lagu heath cottengim – pronunciation feat. thug
[intro: thug & heath cottengim]
ayy we run this
please take your seat mr. thug
you ain’t got nothing on us
ok cl-ss today’s lesson is about pr-nunciation, many of you have taken advantage of slurring your words on your tracks recently. that ends here
[verse 1: heath cottengim]
whether you’re rapping ’bout the struggle, girl trouble, or something humble double check you don’t wreck your message by mumbling something
nothing’s worse than writing out a verse, that’s sure to be superb delivered with no clarity
how is it you guys have popularity? cuz
i don’t think you rappers are meeting the job’s description
if a person can’t get the meaning without decryption
and i don’t mean the rhetoric, i mean like, is he speaking english? is he being serious? is the whole album like this?
missy may have got away with pulling that reverse sh-t. but
that don’t mean you can abuse protools in lieu of putting work in
muhammad ali suffered brain damage from being hit hard
yet remained sharp whenever he spat bars, so y’all can’t play that card
it seems you so-called artists get your lyrics off the clearance rack
i’m fearing that no one can bring coherence back to rap
and it doesn’t have to be me, but it’d be pretty easy to take a bunch of rapper misfits
fix their bad habits ’til they could spit in a way that’s articulate
turn those bruhs into brothers, hoes into lovers, never
mutter another word, let every syllable be heard
as far as i’m concerned there is no alternative
lifestyle deserves to serve the same way c-murder did
[bridge 1: thug & heath cottengim]
yo this is bullsh-t
have a seat mr. thug, i was in the middle of giving a lesson…
yo you don’t know nothing about the flow
alright, well let’s hear what you have to say about the subject
yo listen
[hook: thug]
i ain’t gotta sing your way, i can lay it
on ‘em and they gon love me anyway, cuz my sh-t comes
from the soul. you just mad you on the
bottom of the totem pole. real gangsta sh-t is
permanent, you can’t correct this. i
ain’t gonna take your disrespect so check your privilege
your laws a mirage, check your vision
if imma make change, it’ll be my decision
[verse 2: heath cottengim & thug]
mr. thug, i can see my argument has made you upset, but i have no idea what the f-ck you just said?
your consonant incompetence causes the hypothesis that you’ll go from popular to anonymous faster than the name christopher wallace
warning, there’s no quick fix for learning to enunciate
vowel sounds all scrambled, now that’s a mixtape
you say you rock unique sound, how ambitious. when they
hear you downtown, they gon’ be looking like scared ostriches
your talent’s a myth, you swung and you missed, you’re off the playlist
stop throwing your fists and start pleading the fifth
career’s going down like a sunset at the south pole. pitch
black, gonna grow old, waiting for it to come back, but it won’t show
don’t you see, i’m trying to help you reach your full potential
kiss my -ss
ugh you’re not paying attention
gangsters gotta act tough or be an easy target, i get it
but it sounds like your tongue has already been hit with an anesthetic
see how far you get without my correction, sound like a
bunch of broken clarinets, call you the wouldn’t win section
blame it on quan, blame it on panda, but don’t blame atlanta
cuz we know gambino and outkast p-ssed the test
old school, new school whatever you like. just don’t
support the dopes who dropped out who think they can drop the mic
y’all might want a fight, i ain’t scared of ya, i’ll take care of ya
i’m prepared to repair this man’s impaired wernicke’s area
[bridge 2: thug & heath cottengim]
you’re wack man
and why do you say that
no one knows what the f-ck you’re saying
i would say the same thing about you but
i exalt the rap game and challenge its listeners
you -ssault them and fault them and scare off its visitors
nah cuz
[hook: thug]
i ain’t gotta sing your way, i can lay it
on ‘em and they gon love me anyway, cuz my sh-t comes
from the soul___you just mad you on the
bottom of the totem pole. real gangsta sh-t is
permanent, you can’t correct this. i
ain’t gonna take your disrespect so check your privilege
your laws a mirage, check your vision
if imma make change, it’ll be my decision
[verse 3: heath cottengim]
ya know, maybe i’m going about this all wrong
you haven’t learned anything and we’re nearing the end of the song, maybe there’s a bigger issue
maybe some scholar inequality’s stopping me from construing what you’re doing
maybe you’re just fluent in a language i can’t comprehend and i’ve been against your expression condemning your ascension like pontius pilate
violently bashing your p-ssion as a fraction of energy necessary to carry any clever rhythm and witticism
maybe it’s the industry deserving some criticism
a business built on mimicked gimmicks seems like a flawed system
letting quacks hijack the track, make a mockery
used to be a kingdom, now we have a kakistocracy
maybe we lost our appet-te, sacrificed it like a martyr
forgot our start, put progress on the back burner
captain turner turn this ship around before you start a war
too late, we’ve reached the genre’s final course
[hook: heath cottengim]
you don’t have to sing my way, you can lay it
on ‘em and they gon love you anyway, cuz your sh-t is
genuine. i’m just mad you get away
with no discipline. real gangsta sh-t is
here to stay. i can’t replace it. but you can’t
stop me from growing my style adjacent
your game is the same, keep your tradition
if there’s gonna be change, it’ll be my decision
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