Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Men of Respect, artist - Mathematics. Album song The Answer, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 26.08.2013
Record label: INgrooves
Song language: English
Men of Respect |
| Back with another one, this hip hop shit ain’t over |
| The Wu brought it back I told you |
| Chef shit is hard |
| The hip hop critics is dick heads, they’d rather see Shallah in the yard |
| Writing rhymes that’s soft as cotton |
| We can never ever see that, the nigga flow grows is poppin' |
| First verse I’ll be ready to get clowns |
| Catch 'em in hallways, the worst look get laid down |
| And yo, I rhyme for shooters and boosters |
| Get money churchmen, all those respect my Wu shit |
| Regardless if you see me on TV |
| In 3D and HD, I’mma stay safe in Rae beats |
| This time I’m a bastard swordsman |
| Who put in that work, real quick then I’m repping to Boston |
| Don’t try to get in my way |
| Any rapper any herb I’mma blow you like herbs and lick |
| Fuck a cell phone plan, with a ring I get a hundred dollars |
| Five dubs in a whip on my way to holler |
| Yeah I do credits, but not the ones you get in college |
| My niggas can’t afford Benzes, so we rip impalas |
| Tints on the windows, lookin' like the Ds |
| Got the dope boys nervous when they see me in the street |
| Fuck the hollering on wax, you can see me if it’s beef |
| Hollywood will load the gat and put the BBs in his fleece |
| I’m a preacher with the piece |
| I used to sell X on the west coast, now I get it cheaper on the east |
| I’ve been around the world like Lisa Stansbury |
| TV with the goosenecks, goosenecks to the cranberry |
| Got the Clan ready with the 10 Chevy, keep my grams heavy |
| Slap a bitch ass, doggy style, like my hand’s heavy |
| G up in my swag, tough talk’ll get your man buried |
| Blow the last dragon, part two, nigga, fists of fury |
| I could care less if you’re well know shooters |
| 100 guns, 100 clips, but you still can’t move |
| It’s been a while since you heard a nice nigga from BK |
| Representin' the village, known for lettin' this heat spray |
| First grip we flipped took like a weekend, 3 days |
| Whole team runnin' 'round the Ps with AKs |
| 9 different types of drugs, slipping 'em 5 ways |
| Gettin' rid of a brick in less than five days |
| I pop your head off, leave your brains on the sidewalk |
| My 40 cal, a rearrange to your sidetalk? |
| Where I go, my team, they gonna follow |
| Top Model hoes, with no game, they gonna swallow |
| Got a lotta foes, that’s why my aim be on hollow |
| Die before I let you violate, nigga, live by the motto |
| Pimpin' through lanes, poppin' the clutch, hittin' the throttle |
| At this rate, I’m gonna miss it, I might not witness tomorrow |
| You say you gangsta? |
| Yeah I’m a gangsta |
| You pop that thang? |
| yeah I pop that thang |
| Your clip on empty? |
| My clip on empty |
| Your clique gon bang? |
| Yeah my clique gon bang |
| Look, I hit a weed spot |
| Bypass niggas with broke guns and cheap shots |
| Outlastin' niggas with no punch, y’all eat cock |
| Get too cocky, the heat cock |
| You wanna walk a mile in my shoes, you need socks |
| You need not call out a G, cause he’s not |
| They playin' with a pussy, I’ma show 'em the G spot |
| This dude’s a Meth-head, I’ll show him the detox |
| Look at Johnny with his old ass |
| I’m still schoolin' the whole class |
| The kids in the hall, you get no pass |
| Ice hit the eye like a cold flash |
| Niggas hopin' I don’t spaz |
| Speak for the have-nots and don’t-haves |
| Fuck it, I’m thorough nigga, fuck their worlds |
| Meth clutch the mic, bitch niggas clutch their pearls |
| Tonight, I ain’t feelin' no ice stares |
| If you want it, I’m right here, Staten Island and we don’t fight fair |
| As a young lil' homie, I used to sell crack |
| I used to run in the front of the building and come out the back |
| Lil homie on the block with the fly ass gear |
| Me and my crew used to shop around Union Square |
| Ay yo, I never knew I would become an MC |
| Now everybody on the block be amazed at me |
| Because I rock the mic most definitely |
| Throw darts and I get fly on you, you know my steez |
| Buy 25 high?, yo, I stay low key |
| And if I have to pop something, yo, it’s not my fault |
| I ain’t tell y’all niggas try to crack my vault |
| I’m the new terrorist rapper, the main assault |
| You? |
| on your back, elbow a nigga thought |
| Through Wu-Tang lyrical kung-fu |
| Death when you enter, all my nigga will hunt you |
| Peace to the gods |
| One, two, one, two |
| Million dollar voice box |
| It’s your choice, Ox |
| The face Ox cut off |
| Like tank tops |
| My motivation is money and mass murdering |
| While you still provin' you nice in rap tournaments |
| I be all smooth with the ice and mad burners |
| And plottin' on takin' your life |
| Look how I lure them in |
| Get drunk, smoke ashes up out the urn again |
| Axe murderin' journalist for the words they writ |
| Mathematics crafted the beat, called Term to spit |
| Cause I set fire to shit like a furnace lit |
| I pack German clips, stash box in the whip |
| Four door Optimus Prime, Transformer shit |
| Call the coroner, caskets for half price |
| Bodies in the trunk, movin' through the Mass Pike |
| It’s all now, cause in Law town |
| We roll with premature babies |
| We carry four pounds |