Lyrics No Bullshit - Solomon Childs, Brocolli Rob

No Bullshit

You don’t want to play Rob, or quit your day job
Cuz I stay sharp and play smart
You covered no angles, you singing the blues like Bojangles
And Dizzy Gillispie, now let’s see
Is he a great one, is he a Gretzky?
Recipes for success spell relief
Rest in peace unless you invest in me
Yes indeed, I left your chest piece a mess, you see
Crazy as a wet loosie, yo
I let uzi’s blow, but no hard feelings, bro
Cuz it’s hard dealing low, rappers bogart, they stealing flows
High as ceiling chandeliers, I’m an endangered species
I’m fielded like a panda bear, not a man that cares
So, so, so, proceed with caution, age the speed that’s awesome
World’s full of fuck-ups, we need abortion
Yo, your win, son, it’s gruesome, cuz you win some, I lose none
Head to head, let’s make it a two-some
If you come from the ruthless slums
Where, mothers lose they sons, cuz others misuse they guns
Bloods run the gutters, other than that
We covered in crack, hood?
Hood is flooded with traps
Like pigeons, wings, wings, wings flutter and flap
But never leave the ground, so, so, best believe I’m down
Best believe I’m down, breath the sound, inhale the drum
Do it for the frail and young, the jail and slums
Bitches bump this shit while they get they nails done
Do it from the Isle that where I’m from, Staten
Relaxing, relapsing in the back of Cadillac on Castleton
Cops hassling, I flip the bird and laugh at 'em
I mastered pen, crafted paragraphs faster than half these half assed
Rappers tattling
Banks in to burt, wasn’t baptised, I took a bath in a church
And not even half of the works, laughed then I cursed when I snatched my first
purse
Cursed from birth, but worse than that, we emerge the crap
So much weight on my shoulder it’ll hurt your back
Know the ropes, cuz the older folks know the facts
But when it’s all said and done, Mr. Bush
Mr. Bush, alls we want is our soldiers back…
That’s it…
«Yeah, that’s right you better walk away
Go on, walk away, cuz I’ma burn this mothafucker down!
King Kong ain’t got shit on me!»
It be nothing but smooth sailing
When the heat shot, now your crew’s bailing
I refuse to bow down, refuse to lay down
Five and turn, and let the pistols pound
Where the fuck is the kid’s crown, lady luck blowing all over the dice
Seven forty five, realize the color of cajan rice
This the passion of Christ, done seen a lot of shit
Felt a lot of shit, til the rap shit in my boots
Like how the fuck the raps get in my boots
Around metal it sizzle, wrap more dead meat than Reynolds
Injuries that have you missing more games than Kerry Kittells
There’s a war going on outside, you hear the fiddles?
And you so called units go head and jump
And get your body severed apart with pumps
Talk slick nigga… talk slick, now!
Come on… fix ya muthafucking face
Talk slick, bitch, get licked, faggot