| Lyrical wizardry dances on MC’s like Murray on SC’s
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| Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties
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| Far from angels, niggas can’t see me like Charlie
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| Style weak? |
| Hardly!
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| Don’t let the wacked persue you like Marley
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| JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys
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| Niggas get injured, fucked do’in 40 fingers
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| Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a’niggas
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| Klep don’t give three shits to flip scripts
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| Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards
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| wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci
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| outta paper bags like Joe Pesci
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| Yo, you know the tune
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| Make sure bitches don’t eat when it’s time to shit out them coke balloons
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| Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies
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| bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes
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| (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)
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| (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)
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| (There they go right there, dot them niggas)
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| (Motherfuckers! *gun shots*)
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| MC’s get cut like glass, cut like glass
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| Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass
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| Who wanna get broke the fuck up? |
| Tell me!
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| Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees
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| T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es
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| The nicest, Jesus Christ-es
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| Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso
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| Bullets evacuated out windows
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| From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates
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| Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist
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| No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break
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| Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin
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| Nigga caught up in the hustle
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| Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble
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| Trouble’s what I look for in stores on expensive floors
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| Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle’s in my drawers
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| Armani, Gianni Versace, V2
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| lost count o’all the little sections me and mans ran thru
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| It ain’t hard to discard cans of mace on guards
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| leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard
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| Lyrically I come off like ink alarms
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| Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms
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| Niggas couldn’t see me with closed circuit TV
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| tryin to peep my steez, like DT’s I get over like I’m fifteen
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| (Hey, you’re not fifteen)
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| I’m fifteen, what?
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| (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)
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| Fuck you! |
| Soundin like that nigga from Night Court
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| Loose my cuffs I’m outta here!
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| MC’s be fake like toupes so I transplant
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| Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red
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| Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid
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| Airholes bloody rupted but that ain’t nuttin
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| The best is yet to come
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| MC’s get strung like heads on drums
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| They don’t be knowin what I’m knowin
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| Flowin like I’m flowin
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| Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings
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| Obnoxious beef’s squashes face-to-face
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| Niggas get wet up like Alasha’s on Klep’s place
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| Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes
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| Sick minds don’t care, rockin parties from front to rear
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| Brains engulfed by ferocious ???
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| runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms
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| Livin in a world where you do what you must
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| If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust? |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lyrical Wizardry, artist - Junior M.A.F.I.A.. Album song Conspiracy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп