| Yo, yo the best this year
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| To bless this here mic til your brain burst
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| I’ll guest appear twice and the check will clear three times from the same verse
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| I was always a demon
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| I took the form of a fetus the second my pop’s balls spread his semen
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| Lost my marbles at six
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| Fuck swollowin my nut, I make bitches gargle my piss
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| Bench-press and take over spirits with my fuckin' lyrics
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| Since seven my reflection wouldn’t show up in mirrors
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| And every club that I rip, groupies tuggin my dick
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| I make songs I’d love, even if it wasn’t my shit
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| Y’all drop drugs, generic and bland
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| Sucking the cocks of Biggie and Pac while tryin to inherit they fans
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| And may God bless the soul of every rapper murdered
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| Except for the cats I served
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| And if they were wack then they deserved it
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| Show me a thug, I’d permeate one
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| Duck from the son of a gun born from the barrel of a 38 snub
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| Yo let me know
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| Where’s your crew
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| Round 'em up, roll 'em out, send 'em through
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| Bring whatever you gotta bring
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| (Let's do this shit) Bada fuckin' boom, bada bing
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| Yo let me know
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| Where’s your crew
|
| Round 'em up, roll 'em out, send 'em through
|
| Bring whatever you gotta bring
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| (Let's do this shit) Bada fuckin' boom, bada bing
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| I’m a psycho with a pump
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| And a rifle in the trunk
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| You got ten seconds to run, I never liked you from the jump
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| I drop madness, give whore’s jaw practice
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| Want advice? |
| send your demo to Bob Saggit
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| He’ll laugh at it, the audience will vote for it
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| HELL you might even win the fifty grand, go for it
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| This slut’s mine when it’s fuck time
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| I’m man enough to cum in her
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| But not man enough to take care of what’s mine
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| Emcees with heart
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| Come in peace then leave in parts
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| You rhyme the tightest? |
| I’ll pull your seams apart
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| I must have an everlasting battery between my heart
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| Cause I shine the brightest, when I’m not even charged
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| You ain’t no emcee, you’re a border-line fag
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| With your boyfriend’s number written in your rhyme-pad
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| You talk a lot of gossip
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| Only time you move the crowd
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| Is from the front row of your show to the parking lot to vomit
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| Yo let me know
|
| Where’s your crew
|
| Round 'em up, roll 'em out, send 'em through
|
| Bring whatever you gotta bring
|
| (Let's do this shit) Bada fuckin' boom, bada bing
|
| Yo let me know
|
| Where’s your crew
|
| Round 'em up, roll 'em out, send 'em through
|
| Bring whatever you gotta bring
|
| (Let's do this shit) Bada fuckin' boom, bada bing
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| I preach each word on the mic like it’s my last word i’ll recite
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| So I’ll be famous tomorrow if I’m murdered tonight
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| Playful with this shit
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| While you’re bluffin to your bimbo
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| Leave your razor at the crib, only thing you cuttin is a demo
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| I ain’t waitin, spit it after me
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| Talkin shit behind my back, ain’t hatin
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| That shit is blasphemy
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| You’re trash to me
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| Far from clutched with a verse
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| SO BATTLE ME
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| And leave with a garbage truck for a hearse
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| Half Italian
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| Half Irish
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| All cast-iron
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| Even if I’m the first to blast
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| I’m the last dyin
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| Stand in the middle of a battlefield without a shield
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| Prepare, I could stare at a bullet and shatter steel
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| Tear, any rapper out there, that’s how I feel
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| When I steal more now than I did without a deal
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| Rob your crib, take all your shit, hop out
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| Leave a thank you note signed Copy
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| The Warner Ridge drop out
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| Yo let me know
|
| Where’s your crew
|
| Round 'em up, roll 'em out, send 'em through
|
| Bring whatever you gotta bring
|
| (Let's do this shit) Bada fuckin' boom, bada bing
|
| Yo let me know
|
| Where’s your crew
|
| Round 'em up, roll 'em out, send 'em through
|
| Bring whatever you gotta bring
|
| (Let's do this shit) Bada fuckin' boom, bada |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Badabing , by - Copywrite. Song from the album The High Exhaulted, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп