Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Can't Hold It Back, artist - Dred Scott.
Date of issue: 03.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Can't Hold It Back |
I can’t hold it back, lookin for the line |
Can’t hold it back, search for the rhyme |
Can’t hold it back, inside the mind |
Can’t hold it back now you runnin out of time |
BANG, set it, off with the funk |
When I’m on the mic kid don’t pop junk |
Cause then I come at you, just like Thriller |
You’re like the milk and I’m the serial/cereal, KILLA |
That’ll take your mic and your track and pimp it |
Have you swimmin in your blood like Mr. Limpit |
Don’t come around here with the wack flow |
I swoop down on niggas like a black crow |
Aww shit! |
Now it gets scarier |
Timberland boots to your genital area |
Kick the whole Ku Klux Klan out the South |
Nah punk I won’t take the gat out your mouth |
Oh, no, aim for you chest |
Bang! |
I’m on you like a full court press |
You can’t get the mic 'cross the half court line |
Try to concentrate but you’re LOSING YOUR MIND! |
NON-STOP SHIT, I’m in like Flynn |
Don’t interrupt, naw kid you can’t win! |
The only bright side, I reach for the micraphone; |
You get free parking in the handicapped zone |
And a bro-ken back, I don’t care |
Then I put a 'boot' on your fucking wheelchair |
I can’t hold it back, lookin for the line |
Can’t hold it back, search for the rhyme |
Can’t hold it back, inside the mind |
Can’t hold it back now you runnin out of time!!! |
I gotta get mine in the here and the now |
Brothers wanna flow but they don’t know how |
Niggas don’t know about stayin up late |
While I was in my room kid you was on a date |
Voice got hoarse, but I didn’t quit |
Freestyled til my breath smelled like shit! |
Now folks from the old days wanna call |
But I ain’t a star so I know I won’t fall |
Then it gets worse, when the blood boil |
Crumble emcees like aluminum, foil |
Royal? |
here to rock a new riddle |
School em on the Ave. like Dr. Doolittle |
Klepto, schitzo, take all, kids though |
Let the Glock 9 be the Pepto-Bismol |
For the diarrhea of the mouth, no witness |
The punk over there better mind his own business |
I can’t hold it back, lookin for the line |
Can’t hold it back, search for the rhyme |
Can’t hold it back, inside the mind |
Can’t hold it back now you runnin out of time! |
No I can’t hold it back, representin I. Y |
And I don’t WHY niggas try cause they die |
Everytime I see a fuckin stop sign get stressed |
Blast suckers off like Elliot Ness |
Whoa yes, relievin my stress, with the ease |
I got, knowledge of myself, three-sixty degrees |
Another emcee wanna test with the game |
I lock and load the mic with the lyrics from my brain |
INNN-SANNNE, got to get wild and fuckin crazy |
My style is blowin freeze, so you punks couldn’t trade me in |
For another, word life to your mother |
Instead of using dope kid I’d rather use butter |
To ex-plain the flav' with the track the Dred made |
Shit is on the real all the herbs get slayed now |
Taste my freshness, it’s good and you can bet this |
Rhyme is great so why are you sweatin this |
Micraphone, a kid and a whore as well |
Tell you in your fuckin face to go to H-E-L-L |
That’s Hell if you know how to spell |
I put my foot up yo' ass and don’t you try to rebel |
With both anchors I’m good to please like hold em |
Get on your knees and suck my whole scrotum |
And kiss my ass, cause son, you might as well face it |
Your rhymes ain’t shit so, go ahead and taste it |
But not with a crazy straw cause now you’re my little whore |
Add flavor and spice to fuck it up just a little more |
I crunch and munch get mad, and get heated |
Don’t talk I’m on the hawk, Moonwalk nigga Beat It |
But, wait, I got more, UP just my sleeve |
Cause I want you junkheads to feel and receive |
A broken neck, I’m OUT to wreck, so WHAT the heck |
Here’s the broom and just sweep the deck |
You can’t hold me back, Dred Scott is my witness |
Cause I be Da Grinch that stoled your whole Christmas |
And what that means is, you don’t have the gift |
Now why you wanna riff cause I’m lightin up the spliff |
To get blunted at times yo, I sip on the forty |
Back in Farmer Queens, where people called me shorty |
I used to the work, the niggas called it dirt |
At times I’d get SWAYZE OTHER TIMES I’D GO BEZERK |
It’s Da Grinch and the Dred, track attack and it’s fat |
Don’t know how to act, yo we can’t hold it back |
Break it down, break it break it down LIKE THIS… |