| …When I rock, jock niggaz in shellshock
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| Don’t watch the birdie watch the clock go tick tock
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| I rip shop, I make ya girls bottom lip drop
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| Yo word to the truckers at the pit stop I’m hip hop
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| I hold heat, never forget what niggaz told me they showed me Other emcees trying to fold me they owe me Yo plus them niggaz mad slow gee
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| I got my «Get U Now"so I’m comin with my homie
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| Here’s the plan: stick 'em up, I enter, through the window
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| Stoop down so we can’t see our crescendo
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| Pass the indo, yo we used to be our friend though
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| Yeah but thats the reason I dont really like to lend dough
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| From the corners cylindrical triangle hats
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| As dutch lyrics precise life wring dem from science
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| Leave you entangled for months
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| Tryin to figure who done it, you fronted
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| Got cha shit stunted, didn’t have to be that way
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| Some saw the light comin in, they shunned it For the wickedness to those whose despise life and worship death
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| The established matched at eye for eye, tooth for tooth, breath to breath
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| These are the last days of the countdown, shit is just that drastic
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| Write journals, like they use the prophets, study math like a Aztec
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| Loved not for who you think I am, but who you want me to be
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| A true thuggin emcee, true thugs, with no strings attached
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| I wanna give you my slugs and don’t wanna take em Box sprays, but with my box cutter in my boxes
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| Shots sprayed, who on cops high says we? |
| rosses?
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| Rock away boulevard, got love and? |
| knoxus?
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| Bout five cops today, my rock away
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| Niggaz and rock rage, got paid
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| A rock, you know why I rock, meet me at the? |
| lobses?
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| I suggest I should dress proper
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| Copped a buzz, I copped a dutch
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| I got a lotta love, with no strings attached
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| Rhymes, rhymes, rhymes, we got plenty
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| Times, times, times, too many
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| Sparked up and chat, you keep countin
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| I do my thing, jealous niggaz keep doubtin
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| Rock 'n'roll, lock 'n'load
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| Emcees out for pots of gold, we stop 'em cold
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| In they tracks an take all they? |
| jipsuses?
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| All they dats, all they bullshit mixeses
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| Give 'em a credit, not debt it We just flipped the calistetic
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| Toss the andy pettitte, you said it We grandslam in the never boss stand
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| Any pussy emcee’s we abandon
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| Flew in from Monster Island just to rag shit wit jet lag
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| With brothers specializin ways how us not to get bagged
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| Egads! |
| I bring confusion like roll call
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| To emcees so-called, hoes be like «yup I told y’all»
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| So socialize my bio so I dip dip dive
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| Memorize like I-omega zip drive
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| Go to the bar to drink to get soberer
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| King Ghidra eat the head of a king cobra like king koba
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| Kong get a cut like Kobe, now hold heat
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| So sweet, roll deep but no beef
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| Those that doze deep, close sheets
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| Po chose to speak with, reach over to reload the piece
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| Slip from freak to deak, keep concrete
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| Parallel to body til the next male
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| Shotties and hotty, still waitin to exhale
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| Smell the blood bath a slugs caught
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| Slugs passed and bloodsport
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| Bugged laugh, a bugged thought
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| Caught some eyes make the case last stack a locker
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| Bocker, drink a vodka, hit note, like Sinatra at a opera
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| Drop a flocker, Orville Redenbocher
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| Get you, got you, shot the two L’s without the proper
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| For the? |
| abus? |
| knocker
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| Hit the liquor, quicker than a quicker picker upper
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| Girl and stick er, I leave more nuts than a snicker
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| Kick er to the curb, punk a bitch, stomp a chick
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| For now call me Kong, Monster Isle, Monster Click (Bow!)
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| Loved not for who you think I am, but who you want me to be
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| True thuggin emcee, true thugs, with no strings attached
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| I wanna give you my slugs, and don’t wanna take 'em back |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who You Think I Am, artist - MF DOOM. Album song Operation: Doomsday (Complete), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп