| Yeah, yeah, it’s us
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| We here…
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| I spit phrases that’ll thrill you, you’re nobody
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| You in the wrong league
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| «No advantages»
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| «Tryin' to rip with us» — Casual
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| «No»
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| The real knows phony
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| Memorize all them lines you want, you still don’t know me
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| Try and front, I’ll kill y’all slowly
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| Cats want me to spit it with them without givin' up ends
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| Yeah, I’ll spit on your record for free, in a literal sense
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| I don’t give a… shit, you like me, you don’t
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| If you ain’t cop this and got this free, it might be you broke
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| But fuck how you got it, long as you now own it
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| Whether you went to Record Town stole it, or home to download it
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| Travel like bullets do barrels right from the bullet surprise
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| When I load it, be careful, but right when I pull it, SURPRISE!
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| Bullets through eyes, fuck y’all fakes
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| Gotta measure how good I’m doin' by how much y’all hate
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| Till we abolish, all snakes
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| From the tree of knowledge, all praise
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| If my flow was any harder it’d be a solid
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| I’m that vicious, credit for mad stitches
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| Heavy hitter, like I got a fetish for fat bitches
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| Don’t get it twisted ain’t no rookies in the place
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| The only time I suck is when the pussy’s in my face
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| I’m doper than motherfuckers
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| So quit tryin' to solicit your boy
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| I’m a man and your nigga’s a toy
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| Look at your 'noid, a faggot at all
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| I’ll slice you with a switch blade, you bitch made
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| Like you was had by a dog
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| My shine mops your flow
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| Niggas be listenin' to me screamin' «Sho'Nuff» cause I got The Glow
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| Jakki The Mota, spits sick lines that go for your health
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| The only cat you’ll find nicer is Jehovah himself
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| Stop testin' me, stick dick to the best of B’s
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| Ya’ll niggas pissed, because they bitch givin' 'em STD’s
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| So what you got a Glock to my back, take my chain
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| Turn around, pull out a deuce deuce and rob you back
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| Copywrite stay hatin' your clique
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| I’ll play like I’m Jehovah, take a rib out of you and make you a bitch
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| Sniff four lines, now I’m wired on tour trifle
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| My hype man will probably get tired before I do
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| While this record is spinnin' I’m peckin' your pigeon
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| By the second chorus
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| She’ll have given me brain for seven consecutive innings
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| I’ll screw your plans up +No Joke+
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| Like Rakim at Scott La Rock’s funeral doin' stand up
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| «Hands up» shout when I flow
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| Get three more holes in your face to breath through
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| Besides your mouth or your nose
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| Lucky that weak shit leaked
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| Napster wants your release date pushed back at least six weeks
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| So fuck y’all, I’m Scarface with a mountain of snow
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| Before they announcin' the show
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| I’m out with a ho, countin' the doe
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| Injure y’all, fuck who your team members are
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| I roll with The Hertz but I ain’t talkin' rent a cars
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| Backwards in a Porsche through any stop sign
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| I’m like the back of The Source too many hotlines / hot lines
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| I’ll prove I’m an angry artist, you’re my target for hate
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| Crack your head open and paint the fuckin wall with your face
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| All of you wait, it’s not your imagination
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| Motamouth and Copywrite, equivalent to a God and Satan collaboration
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| Jakki’s in the house
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| Yeah, we can battle
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| But how you gonna spit your rebuttal with a .45 in your mouth?
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| You actin' sick, I’ll tell you to quit actin'
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| I’ll guest appear on your album, and tell you to quit rappin'
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| Your whole style needs a bitch slappin'
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| So come through sunny child
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| You funny style, like gay kung fu
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| Try to shit on my city like we ain’t rippin' you
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| Come to Columbus, get hit and leave with +A Different View+
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| You fuckin' with hoes, I heard you fuckin' with pros
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| Put your dick in the river, you still can’t fuck with the flow
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| Thanks for your beautiful bitch, I got her with ease
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| All I had to tell her, is that you got a disease
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| Fuck your steez, I amp the crowd
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| You’ll try to do the same but you can’t
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| I laid a charlie horse on your tongue
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| And cramped your style
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| These so called underground laws are built to protect you
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| I know the laws, but I don’t follow them like bill collectors
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| Fuck the rap skill, get your cap peeled
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| I pack steel
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| So if I can’t beat you the gat will
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| Tap grills, wanna injure you cats
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| I’m so hot, DJs burn they fuckin' palms when they spin my wax |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Nobody (Featuring Jakki Tha Mota Mouth) , by - Copywrite. Song from the album The High Exhaulted, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп