| You wanna front, what?
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| Jump up and get bucked
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| If you’re feeling lucky duck
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| Then press your luck
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| I snatch fake gangsta MC’s and make em faggot flambe
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| Your nine spray, my mind spray
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| Malignant mist steadily pumps the funk
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| The results you’re a gang stuffed in a car trunk
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| You couldn’t come to the jungles of the East poppin that game
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| You won’t survive get live catchin wreck is our thing
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| I don’t gang bang or shoot out bang bang
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| The relentless lyrics the only dope I slang
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| I’m a true master you can check my credentials
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| Cuz I choose to use my infinite potentials
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| Got a freaky, freaky, freaky-freaky flow
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| Control the mic like fidel castro locked cuba
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| So deep that you can scuba dive/my jive
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| Origin is unknown like the Jubas
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| I’ve accumulated honies all across the map
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| Cuz I’d rather bust a nut then bust a cap in Ya back in fact my rap snaps ya sacroilliac
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| I’m the mack so i don’t need to tote a Mac
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| My attack is purely mental and its nature’s not hate
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| It’s meant to wake ya up out of ya brainwashed state
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| Stagnate nonsense but if you persist
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| You’ll get ya snotbox bust you press up on this
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| I flip hoes dip none of the real niggas slip
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| You don’t know enough math to count the mics that I ripped
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| Keep the Dirty Rotten Scoundrel as his verbal weapons spit
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| Verse Two:
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| Real rough and rugged, shine like a gold nugget
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| Every time i pick up the microphone i drug it Unplug it on chumps with the gangsta babble
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| Leave your nines at home and bring your skills to the battle
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| You’re rattlin’on and on and ain’t sayin nothing
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| That’s why you got snuffed when you bump heads with Dirty Rotten
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| Have you forgotten, i’ll tap you
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| I also kick like kung fu flicks by run run shaw
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| Made frauds bleed every time I g’d
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| Cuz i’ve perfected my drunken style like sam seed
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| Pseudo psychos i play like Michael
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| Jackson when i’m bustin ass and breakin backs
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| Inhale the putrified aroma
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| Breathe too deep and you’ll wind up coma-
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| tose the king i’m hard like a fifth of vodka
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| And bring your clique cuz i’m a hard rock knocka
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| I gotcha, out on a limb i’m about to push you off the brink
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| Let you draw your craw but you burnin’shot breaks
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| When the East is in the house you should come equipped
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| Verse Three:
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| Fly like a jet sting like a hornet
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| Knuckleheads get live and set it off if you want it Dirty rotten scoundrels is crushin fools no joke
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| With styles more fatal than second hand smoke
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| Don’t provoke the wrath of this rhyme inventor
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| Cuz I blow up spots like the world trade center
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| Come with the super trooper on his assault mission
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| The tech’s technique cuz he’s a technician
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| Wishin he’ll go away won’t help the weapons stop
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| The skills are shot cuz any idiot can let off a glock
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| Hard rock smellin the clutch of this untoucha
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| You claim you got beef on the streets so whatcha
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| Gonna do when real niggaz roll up on you
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| And you don’t got your crew
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| Pull your glock but you don’t got the heart
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| You was webbed straight from the start
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| Bought a tool and didn’t learn how to use it Got lost in Brooklyn so you had to lose it Just for frontin you got that ass waxed |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Come Clean, artist - Jeru The Damaja. Album song The Sun Rises In The East, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп