Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Macross Plus, artist - Billy Woods. Album song Camouflage [Re-Release], in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.02.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Backwoodz Studioz
Song language: English
Macross Plus |
Call me Nigga Jim, sarcastic grin |
Sipping a cup of original sin, full to the brim |
Cowards snitching again, put the whole hood in the pen |
And those was they friends, you know a thug, I ain’t him |
No do-rag and no timbs, still pushed through like bang grim |
Rocks, just watch me still properly, ice check mic hockey, sip sake |
Write my name like Taki, can’t stand a photocopy |
Pipe-heads try to cop me, like you holding that poppy |
Not trying to be cocky, but don’t pass it to Billy if it’s sloppy |
Stress got my lyrics choppy |
Here’s a rule of thumb, a gun liable to make you act dumb |
And forget you ain’t the only nigga who got one |
I’m nasty as Robert Crumb, William Woods, Tiger style whole-in-one |
Got little men on my tongue and ain’t having fun |
Making Woods run, busting off puns in cybernetic slums |
Outside the pearly gates I’m Christ' plus one |
I’m what would have happened if Shakespeare smoked drums |
Attila The Dun, get my raps off your gums |
Spitamatic of the numb lung, inhale that THC dust |
Start moving on macross plus, flushed |
With purple cuts, hand grenade raps to bust |
Harry Houdini in cuffs, 007 told me the world’s not enough |
Aiming verses at Jupiter, I got the right stuff |
Where I’m from we ain’t chill on blocks |
Streets was too hot, ain’t no straight shots |
In the woods where we hide from cops |
Light pop and brew hops, MCs retraining ‘em |
To move subterranean with landmine rhymes |
Underground like coffins, burn a spliff often |
Crunch shit got me coughing, holding more green than Boston |
March seventeen, rap’s Abby Hoffman |
Levitate the Pentagon, in between pulls off the bong |
My pen right wrong, climbing fire escapes |
On some Donkey Kong, if popo here I’m gone |
Good old boys never meaning no harm |
Down south have you back on the farm |
With chains on your legs and arms |
Singing them sad, sad colored songs |