Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Flow On The Rodeo, artist - King Just.
Date of issue: 15.05.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No Flow On The Rodeo |
Well here I am, the funky man wit the ill manner |
Don’t spasm, cuz I be y’all bad mamma jamma |
I told ya couldn’t fuck wit me, nanananana |
I turn Incredible Hulk back into David Bammer |
I am a slammin this shit just like a human hammer |
And rock suits from Timbuktu to Alabama |
Is the matter, and chocolate here comes the sword |
Hit us hard, but now we livin large, oh my God |
Yo it’s on, movin in like Desert Storm |
Droppin bombs, ring the alarm, where’s my bong? |
Light it up, cuz I’mma smoke shit just like a Gemini |
For niggas who don’t remember, yo Mo Bee |
Make it easy, girls wanna seize me |
Believe me, it’s the same shit at the 6 G |
Harvard tactics, breakin niggas backwards |
The Zoo stickin niggas like cactus, for practice |
These fake rappers, try to chill and make a pill |
Knowin they ain’t real, knowin they ain’t got skills |
I’m from the Hill, where niggas go to toe to toe |
In other words, no flows on the rodeo |
Yippeekiyay, yippee yay, yippee yo |
Yippeekiyay, yippee yay, yippee yo |
Yippeekiyay, yippee yay, yippee yo |
Yo, no flows on the rodeo |
Holy cow, the kangaroo, they let the wildest nigga out the Zoo |
It’s the bird who flew the coup on the first scoop |
Who blew the roof? |
Poof, straight into the Mystics |
Super sadistic, I’m butter like a biscuit |
Oh shit kid, watch the sonic boom get boomer |
I flip hits and shits, and free my kazoomas |
On like Pumas, and niggas can’t throw me out |
Cuz the rhymes I give’ll get ya dick hard like pencil stout |
Shout, a little bit louder now |
Who’s that nigga goin, aow, aow |
Style, makes me superhyginetic |
Fuck athletics, I’m dope and poetic |
Forget it, cuz niggas don’t want none |
Can’t get none, probably done before they see the outcome |
The Drum, is the constant beat in my ear |
The Warrior, is me, because I have no fear |
I sware, to my little seed, take heed |
Cuz in this rap shit, I’mma succeed and smoke weed |
And get lifted, high as a kite |
You can’t fuck wit the rhymes I write |
So you write, tonight’s the night |
I’m ready to fight, it’s on and it’s war |
I turn, I shoot, I score |
I’m like a threat to a needle, make more hits than Beatles |
And stay sharp like a church steeple |
For my people, I gotta put 'em on somehow |
Is the faces you meet up, is the ones you meet goin down? |
Bow, I’m blowin up spots this year |
I don’t care, so rollin up the owls in the stairs |
Be prepared, for all types of shit like this |
Hits after hits, it can only be Black Fist |
Shit, what you thinkin |
The reason, I’m the shit is cuz I’m stinkin |
Ya niggas is dead like Abe Lincoln |
I’m thinkin, I’m a fuckin master plan |
It be the man, that made me the man that I am |
God damn, the nigga slams like NBA Jam |
Tryin to battle me, is tryin to drown Aquaman |
It couldn’t happen, I’m still on the Staten |
Still rappin, still keepin the crowd clappin |
I’m blastin, all up in the like a shuttle |
Makin other rap squads go in a huddle, leave a puddle |
Of blood for my niggas lock down, one love |
For you niggas who don’t like me, blaow, catch a slug |
What, '95 |
No one survive |