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