| Arms out the window and aim!
|
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim!
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition)
|
| 'Cause I am Mike Jordan, Mike Tyson, Mike Phelps
|
| Michelangelo with the flow bro and the mic helps
|
| Ha! |
| The mic stealth, that’s for the mic’s health
|
| You’ll take me out now that’s the funniest shit, Mike Epps
|
| They say the street need a hit
|
| It ain’t gon write itself
|
| So I’mma set this bitch on fire
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| It ain’t gon light itself
|
| And I’mma beat the beat up
|
| It ain’t gon fight itself
|
| Fuckin let it write itself until it good night itself
|
| That’s for the OG to do it
|
| Just equip me and do
|
| You know what we a do fool
|
| I will pull it back
|
| I will let it go
|
| I will lay it down
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition)
|
| So I’m gon make sure I can drop em (drop em)
|
| Load em up and cock em (cock em)
|
| Arms out the window and aim!
|
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim!
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition)
|
| 'Cus I am Al Capone, John Gotti, Larry Hoover
|
| Tooky Williams, Mike and sexy on, bitch I will do ya
|
| Now when you talkin do a million people listen to ya?
|
| Or do they slip and keep it moving like they never knew ya
|
| You born a sucker, die a sucker, yea you get the picture
|
| When you go, you gon try to take some trill niggas wit ya
|
| Son of bitch yea, I say fuck you for a picture
|
| Come in to get yo head a bodybag
|
| This shoulda fit ya
|
| Nigga talkin down in your subliminal rap
|
| We’re playin, you get slow dice
|
| Like slit through the craps
|
| Snap back to reality, there’ll be another studio
|
| Casually, try to battle me
|
| I leave em rattled G
|
| That’s for the OG to do it
|
| Just between me and you
|
| You know what we a do, fool
|
| I will pull it back
|
| I will let it go
|
| I will lay it down
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition)
|
| So I’m gon make sure I can drop em (drop em)
|
| Load em up and cock em (cock em)
|
| Arms out the window and aim!
|
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim! |
| Aim!
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition)
|
| Staircases and aces, razor blade cameras and scrapers
|
| Get through it big, I got the rhythm to bend cages
|
| Choppa mad, places in front
|
| We just stunt, you know my shakers
|
| All of them shoot just like the Lakers
|
| Paper fryers and Goliath, mission attired, he wired
|
| Kill that nigga with the quick fast and tie it
|
| Check that Houston goose and the cranberry will loosen niggas up
|
| Quinton thought he was straight just like moose and
|
| Stat and Pharell bustin them bow and arrows
|
| We touch so we lowin sparrow
|
| Chums is long and goofy like cousin Cowell
|
| Truth or fire, dope fiends get crucified
|
| Both teams is super loud
|
| Me and Buns, the underworld is ours nigga
|
| Pantries is filled with nothing but blow and scampy shrimps
|
| Try to stop me nigga, shoot through his eyes
|
| Blow tryin to cope, coppin the stove, he drove pop us
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| So I’m gon make sure I can drop em (drop em)
|
| Load em up and cock em (cock em)
|
| Arms out the window and aim! |
| (I will pull it back)
|
| Aim! |
| (I will let it go)
|
| Aim! |
| (I will lay it down)
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition)
|
| So I’m gon make sure I can drop em (drop em)
|
| Load em up and cock em (cock em)
|
| Arms out the window and aim! |
| (I will pull it back)
|
| Aim! |
| (I will let it go)
|
| Aim! |
| (I will lay it down)
|
| 'Cause them boys keep challenging me
|
| (But there’s no competition) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Competition, artist - Bun B. Album song Trill O.G. "The Epilogue", in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп