Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Like Me, artist - Erick Sermon. Album song Chilltown, New York, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 21.06.2004
Record label: A Republic Records release;
Song language: English
Like Me |
| You can’t rap like me |
| Uhh, Sy Scott, Def Squad (yeah) |
| Listen, ain’t playin no games man |
| Yeah, whattup |
| Give or receive, and give or take, I’m an Indian giver |
| I take back what’s given to the getter from the giver |
| Nigga give way, give up, you never get a glimpse |
| Of the Glimmer Man, glimmer glitter when I trek your body shiver |
| Rhythm I’m rippin whatever I can get a grip of |
| Just to get a giggle, this literature’s ishkabibble |
| And damn, dun-duh dun-duh dun-duh, the shark is in the weater |
| Dun-duh dun-duh dun-duh got him right where I want him |
| Now I’mma get him, Scott crack legbones like a wishbone |
| Snap your nosebone witcha chinbone |
| Break your legs and snap your shinbone |
| Put your skullbone jawbone right next to your gall stones |
| 'til y’all all know |
| I got the hypothalamus of a hippopotamus |
| Squashin the retardapuss when we tidal rush |
| Too good to be true like fairy tales come true again |
| You wish you was me but woke up and you was you again |
| Sy Scott, you can’t rap like me |
| You can’t murder a rhyme or kill a track like me |
| You can’t, bust aim or hold a gat like me |
| Flow hundred percent, you can’t rap like me, nah |
| This here’s somethin stupid for the eardrum |
| You wanna hear somethin slick son, here it come |
| You can ask Dr. Phil, I’m ill |
| I’mma kill you, then kill them, then «Kill Bill» |
| Yeah — word to Vivica, I hemorrhage a pile |
| Drop the temperature, 'til the coroner start zippin ya |
| B-ball player, I shoot from the perimeter |
| Two shot, three shot, all into ya |
| On mics I does my thing |
| Agua, I flow like Poland Spring |
| Not from Maine, I’m from New York mayne |
| I’m the Bandit, in the black Maybach in transit |
| 300 pound nigga, hold weight, stop — hold, wait |
| E-Dub the great there’s no mitake, yeah |
| The untakeable, unshakeable, you uncapable |
| I’m Bruce Willis, I’m «Unbreakable» — uh-huh |
| You can’t replace the unplaceable |
| You can’t face off, with the unfaceable |
| Even the matador can’t face the bull |
| I’m the raging bull, you wanna shoot, pull |
| E, you can’t rap like me |
| The boy with the slow flow you can’t rap like me |
| Bang bang, you can’t shoot a gat like me |
| My Squad is Def, and you can’t rap like Khari |
| I throw three like Bobby Jackson, at 'em |
| I’m O.G. |
| like Bobby Johnson, stomp 'em |
| Hold G like Bumpy Jonson, on 'em |
| Read flip and beat kids like Joe Jackson |
| My flow jackin, clack clack, I’m sharp like the claws |
| Of Hugh Jack', with hands packin, make you an ex-man |
| Time for some action, and matter of fact |
| Go exercise or be ordained to explore pain |
| And explain, why you puttin extras on |
| In this excess I throw a hex through your headset |
| Settle down 'fore I set it off on the set |
| Let’s say Santiago is the best you heard yet (yep) |
| I know, my flow, oh my God, get so, heated |
| That MC’s stay away like I got heebie jeebies |
| Ask G’s if I G, hit the G spot on your queen |
| Kings get they heart or crown ripped apart now |
| Yeah, you can’t rap like me |
| You snap back, get back, smack a wack MC |
| Santiago, you ain’t got the stats like me |
| To get busy and tap dance on tracks like me |