lirik lagu megalon & meccagodzilla - tha track killa
for all you mcs out there that forgot about creative thinkin’
this is it right here
where did the h~rns go?
trombone must be scared
that n~gga trumpet said some dumb sh~t
he must have been drunk with blunts lit
piano, pump, pump this
drums get punched if they don’t stop where i wanted
drums with broken drumsticks
pump your fists
the punchlines in my .16s is gun clips
i shoot female rappers in their mouth when we tongue kiss
my tongue spits ammunition
young kids, chicks sayin’ “my man is missin'”
put my tape in they hand, listenin’
dumb b~tch, it’s tommy gunn, done, listen
my son’s in prisons
the rhythm in my voice is sittin’ in ’em cells with ‘еm
jail jams, come get ’em, bum sh~t
whеn they come home and comin’ to the show
come with ’em, son
kid, see gunn spit
y’all got razors, i got slugs by the side of my tongue
i body beats, my work will pause bullets in the side of the drums
melodies try to ruin my vocals, told me he got a gun
that’s why every time i spit it’s a hot one
the hi~hats got shot once
my ad~libs carry shotguns
my voice will put a hold in your vest if you got one
the basslines call me “top gunn”
here’s to rap careers: crack beers
my slurred words and dislike lisps slap snares
my street speech s~s~sn~tch ears
and when i sing (sing), sing
guitar strings snapped, yeah, yeah
i had to buy my engineer black gear last year
he laid the tracks to lay the track down
we buried the dat back there
microphones act scared
is it on, black?
“nah, you can’t hear?”
nah
“that’s weird. you hear that?”
yeah
down south djs tell me my raps crash the wackest track dead
y’all got razors, i got slugs by the side of my tongue
i body beats, my work will pause bullets in the side of the drums
melodies try to ruin my vocals, told me he got a gun
that’s why every time i spit it’s a hot one
the hi~hats got shot once
my ad~libs carry shotguns
my voice will put a hold in your vest if you got one
the basslines call me “top gunn”
duke, listen
[whistling]
i know you wonderin’ “why the f~ck is you whistlin’?”
’cause instruments are hidden and musicians are missin’
you listen to who spittin’
my lyrical written with small pieces of pencils
put inside pistols and position fittin’
to bop ten holes in a temple
who’s the dude hittin’?
sent by the productions
who’s listenin’ and who’s grippin’ the pen?
i c~cked the pen
pop, pop, poppin’ hot ones in a rhythm
murderin’ the music, my words is in two clips
y’all got razors, i got slugs by the side of my tongue
i body beats, my work will pause bullets in the side of the drums
melodies try to ruin my vocals, told me he got a gun
that’s why every time i spit it’s a hot one
the hi~hats got shot once
my ad~libs carry shotguns
my voice will put a hold in your vest if you got one
the basslines call me “top gunn”
my raps back, slaps the sacks
the wacks got scratched
i rock black slacks at the flute’s funeral
and shot slugs through the loo
ya hear that?
the beat blast black and the samples said “who are you?”
sample be the true, true trooper to the crew
i had to tell them “they all usin’ you”
just so that they could be heard
he said “true, true”
i said “all praise is due to you”
you made hip hop beautiful
you gave rap cash to produce
a way to eat for the way you play the beat, you are the t~~th
without you, there’s no way that we could chew the food
he told me not to shoot the loot, loot was the truth, but two
then he said “him and i could teach you to produce”
then he told me “the producers are usin’ you” (you, you, you, you, you)
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