| I breaks it down, do my own thizzle
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| Kill beat and thug people each weekend
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| Godi changin' eye wear and dress changin'
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| Nelly’s hummin' go 'head try and sell me somethin'
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| Blowin' cash and, goin' out and fuckin' ass and gettin' smashed
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| Drink anything, hunh Hennessy, Cris, Mo and Captain
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| Now everybody talkin' bout their platinum, hmmm
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| Is you bustin' skill or is he flashin', hmmm
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| Talk about your cash flow
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| Heard about how you were loaded at your last show
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| Italian Stallion, chinky rhymes hot though
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| From the fat to the blubber on my big hoes
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| I keep it movin' know just what the fuck I’m doin'
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| Jack the RZA track, keepin' that you have to use a
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| Gat to get it back, the CES need necklaces, Cris, Glocks and jet-skis
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| Cross Vermouth and shit with Pepsi
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| You know my Steez
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| Company should merge with me
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| My logo on your lunchbox, most certainly
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| Go spin suckas, give me weed caught and phone crush ya
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| You don’t like it, dick up in ya fuck ya
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| I blazed emcees before I ever smoked trees
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| My style broke motherfuckin' backs like Chris Reeve
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| Most say Jason is loud and absurd
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| On some bullshit, Roger got 'em bitin' a curb
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| He’s the third general, Lucid, Perseph and the Sorceress
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| Swingin' broad swords and they use piles and corpses
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| Then it’s me, the one the haters can’t see
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| Once CES Cru breaks through unexpectedly
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| To bounce a check my sword still remains imperial
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| So after wake and bake I eat a few bowls of cereal
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| We reign all year 'round from June to June
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| My ninjas strike immediately if not soon
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| Brother lynchin, inform the execution date
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| As this 2000 beyond slang suffocate
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| Amplify samples through rappin' about depression
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| Call Jason to smoke about 20 nothin' less than
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| My rhymes start shit and get all splattery and nasty like hot liquid
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| This be that CES shit, I don’t give a cotton pickin'
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| Fuck about a brother grabbin' on his dick and nuts
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| I hold my own, my sight style be on the phone
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| Makin' sure that me and Dean got the hypest shows
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| No time to eat, forever weak like a Herringbone
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| I’m broke as fuck, never knowin' how the money goes
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| Ounces son, weed lover number one
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| From check to check, buyin' hella weed, Philly blunts
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| Dutchmasters, Garcia Y Vega wrappers
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| Split and burn bitch, bet I got have at work
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| Secret stashin' borrowin' my piggy’s hollow
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| Ish the puff, kiss the beard now full swallow
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| Drivin' Humvees, til the next episode
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| I’m bleachin' undies, hand on my butt-crack
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| It’s gettin' ugly, mad had to bring it back
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| Don’t understand a fact when it come to spinnin' wax
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| I don’t know to scratch real rap from the trap
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| Midi town, KC how to be exact
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| Break it down, all in together
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| Things are gettin' good, lookin' better now |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Shadowboxing 2005 , by - CES Cru. Song from the album Cesphiles Vol. 1 Codename:Irongiant, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп