| Put up, what up, bo bo bo
|
| Suckers want to flow
|
| But they got no show
|
| So I’m a grab the mic
|
| Flip a script and leave you stunned
|
| Buckshot’s the one
|
| That gets the job done
|
| Mic check, I get
|
| Paid to wreck your set
|
| Get ready to jet
|
| Cause I’m a threat to your fret
|
| No holds barred
|
| And complete move fakers
|
| Best to be the backup
|
| Watch your girl, I might take her
|
| If she’s a crab
|
| I’m a diss her and slide
|
| If she try to riff
|
| I got my Smith on my side
|
| Word to God
|
| Here I come, so make way
|
| Rugged and rough
|
| Killing your set every day
|
| Microphone check
|
| One, two, here we go
|
| And I’m a let you know
|
| Who got the flow
|
| Spitting my verbs like
|
| An automatic weapon
|
| Suckers keep stepping
|
| Cause I’m a let you know
|
| Who got the props
|
| Who got the props
|
| 5ft, Evil Dee, and Buckshot
|
| One Mississippi, two Mississippi
|
| Sucker tried to diss me
|
| Ao I played him like
|
| A hippie from the 60's
|
| But I’m a get paid from the 90's
|
| Quick to play you
|
| Little Rascals out like Stymie
|
| Kicking flavor
|
| With my Life Saver techniques
|
| Guaranteed to move feets
|
| And I go on for weeks
|
| Maybe years if my peers
|
| Give me ears to fill
|
| Lick off a shot and
|
| Act ill, parlay and chill
|
| See I paid my dues
|
| Now you can’t tell me nothing
|
| This is dedicated to the
|
| Ones who kept fronting
|
| The ones who tried to
|
| Diss and play high, oh, no
|
| Just cause you had low
|
| See now I got dough
|
| And I’m paid out my rectum
|
| Meaning my backbone
|
| Grab the mic, flip a
|
| Mad script to your dome
|
| Suckers, I kick 'em like tae kwon do
|
| Yes and low, from head
|
| To toe to let you know
|
| I’m the rugged operator
|
| Like Arnold Schwarzenegger
|
| Buckshot quick to play
|
| Your nigga like Sega
|
| Smooth trigger-happy snappy
|
| Keep my hair nappy
|
| When I swinging
|
| Ep girls call me big pappy
|
| I used to play a game
|
| Called ring around the rosey
|
| But now I play the mic
|
| That’s why the whole world knows me
|
| I’m sort of like a Chevy
|
| Heavy when I bumrush
|
| You’d better bring
|
| Your whole damn crew or
|
| Get your head crushed, sucker
|
| Cause I’m a set it off with one shot
|
| One trigger, one nigga
|
| Enough heads drop
|
| Don’t even try to
|
| Play me out cause static
|
| Buckshot Shorty
|
| He sounds like an automatic
|
| Rip the set, my friend’s mad tight
|
| Cause I rocks the mic
|
| And keeps the crowd hype
|
| Straight from bumrush
|
| I crush and cause chaos, yo
|
| And I’m a let you know
|
| One, two, melody shows
|
| And before I flip a script
|
| You know I must keep you dozing
|
| Into the stage of the Buckshot Shorty
|
| Son pass the boom, keep the top on the 40
|
| Never ever ever get played, kill that
|
| Bust a mad cap in your back
|
| Cause I’m all that
|
| Straight from Crooklyn
|
| Better known as Brooklyn
|
| Elude the hook and
|
| Your whole beat’s tooken
|
| Must take charge
|
| Bomb guard, I’m the man
|
| Bust my plan, it feeds back on my fam
|
| Once I cruise, pay dues, I never lose
|
| When I break on fools
|
| Wake up, you don’t snooze
|
| Bust a move
|
| I get smooth like Roadie
|
| Kick it like the Four Horsemen
|
| Yeah, you know me
|
| Booming like a speaker
|
| With my hundred dollar sneakers
|
| Baggy black jeans
|
| Knapsack and my beeper
|
| Keep a fresh cut
|
| Never see me with a busted fro
|
| And I’m a let you know |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who Got The Props, artist - Black Moon. Album song Nervous Hip Hop, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп