lirik lagu jugga the bully - clueless (fuck clue)
“we here to talk about that n-gg- dj clue, so you know…”
“you ain’t nothin, all you do is spin records, that’s all you do
who he think he is? dj quik? huh? kid capri?”
[verse one]
i open up blaze and see these b-ms all dissin’ me
ernesto don’t have a clue like unsolved mysteries
when my alb-m drops i’ll be runnin’ y’all industry
see me in person bet i get respect from y’all instantly
f-ck y’all sympathy – i call your bluff like card-playing
now you on the phone with those other f-ggot a&r’s sayin’
“my bad, yo! i ain’t know how b-tta he could be”
next month you like (“new exclusive sh-t! jugga the bully!!!”)
got folk askin’ me “why you got beef with clue?
that dude got friends…” that’s cool, i got people too
what i’m supposed to do? he gave me a wack write up
misrepresentin’ mine knowin’ that it’s phat like b-tts
this n-gg- couldn’t scratch a record in a cat fight plus
your alb-m sucks – wishin’ you could rap like touch
you just juggle some nuts to get a few exclusives
and thought no one could tell you wack, what the f-ck is you stupid?
i question your skills, trashin’ every mag that got you in it
and i swear never heard nothin’ hot you blended
on my block you finished – i’m ambitious and vicious
and you gonna fall cuz real hip hoppers can’t stand b-tches
[chorus:]
you don’t have a clue
when you disrespect the dirty south this how we do
got everyone from here to overseas dissin’ too
you don’t get no respect here so, fuuuuuuck clue!!
[verse two]
i heard clue’s hatin’ – ya words in blaze is circulatin’
you ain’t all that – n-gg-s got you gased like service stations
in addition, your tapes got too much reverberation
you f-cked up and brought an atlien earth invasion
what, you didn’t understand the story?
“first contact’s” a metaphor about weed, n-gg- – it’s self explanitory
guess you ain’t get it – that’s what i expect though
f-ck ya mix tape – you ain’t special, ms. ernesto
with all that echo – tapes headed straight for trash cans
i seen you live – you couldn’t mix if your name was tascam
screamin’ on all ya tapes to cover up all the mistakes
that’s why you never in dj battles – you’d prolly get raped
put the plates on – what the f-ck you waitin’ on?
got ya head spinnin’ like those twelve hundreds you fakin’ on
puff made you, then that n-gg- jigga saved you
interscope paid you – now jugga the bully just played you
i got no beef with artists gettin’ run on ya tapes
but if they retaliate – then they, too, gettin’ punched in the face
i heard you spin cd’s anyway – what’s that sh-t?
lately your tapes ain’t been bangin’ – it’s just wack sh-t
so f-ck you – i won’t even mention those other a&r’s
tryin’ to clone stars so broke they can’t even afford cars
i’m going far regardless – catchin’ wreck over beats
you just mad cause ya -ss don’t get no respect on the streets
yeah…i expected to see that lump that’s in ya throat…
i give ya a&r job two to three months at interscope
my sh-t is dope – kill that noise and try me
you the only deejay couldn’t scratch if the wax had poison ivy
[chorus]
[verse three]
i guess you must’ve felt threatened by mine
either that or you too dumb to understand what i said in my rhyme
the song was complex, clue didn’t comprehend the context
while everyone who does is sweatin’, complementin’ concepts
you got yours, why you hatin’ on mine?
and i know you got back so f-ck the gats this rap is breakin’ ya spine
i’m glad you dissed me – and i still got love for new york city
but this n-gg-‘s soft like t-tties – dj clue’s a sissy
similar to some of the emcees on that wack sh-t he play
f-ck the gay rapper – clue’s the f-ggot deejay
dis the bully? you nuts like the condoms i skeet in
you wouldn’t know original livin’ in the garden of eden
so pardon the beefin’ but i got issues with dude
not only are your tapes common, but the b-tch is in you
that’s why my real n-gg-s no longer listen to you
the president or the professional? which is it, clue?
it ain’t president cause you got no campaign funds
if it won’t for jay-z, where would you get your champagne from?
it ain’t professional cause your whole st–z is amateur night
you wanted action? well, you got it like camera lights
don’t reply – not even teamsters can manage to strike
got the soundman p-ssed cause i damaged the mic
it’s like this: recognize n-gg- get ya sh-t straight
and i might still supply exclusives for ya weak mix-tapes….
[chorus]
[outro:]
big head n-gg-, f-ck you, i’ll break your f-ckin’ fingers
how ’bout that? know what i’m sayin’? scratch you with your own needle
plus nail your turntables down on your knuckles
don’t even matter, talkin’ about jugga the bully
talkin’ ’bout my sh-t’s wack, you didn’t even listen to the sh-t
if you did, you woulda known what the sh-t was about
wouldn’t a said that bullsh-t, know what i’m sayin?
atlantis underworld, save that clone rap sh-t
y’all n-gg-s suck d-ck for, it’s that real sh-t
i’m tellin’ you right now, man, don’t even play that bullsh-t
motherf-cker diss me, talkin’ about i’m wack?
that sh-t y’all heard was just wack, what the f-ck?!?
ignorant -ss motherf-ckers, man
i’ma show y’all motherf-ckers how to do sh-t in the new millenium
continuum, baby, dj kno rocked this f-ckin track for y’all motherf-ckers
this what y’all motherf-ckers wanted to hear?
you b-tch -ss n-gg-, it’s the same f-ckin’ sh-t
but this time it’s directed at your b-tch -ss… word up
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