Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Competition, artist - Talib Kweli.
Date of issue: 27.01.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No Competition |
My nigga Khrysis be offering you some heat, yup |
You other rappers I’m offering you a seat |
Matter fact, take several |
Park it like valet |
Page is to opera to writing is ballet |
If your taste is exquisite then maybe you’ll make a visit |
To a place where you can get, support it and make a difference |
That’s of course that’s only if the recording remain consistent |
And you make a straight line to the store, the shortest distance |
To travel the globe over the rainbow, the pot of gold |
My career is to the point where I’ve learned to enjoy the road |
Taking flicks in front of famous cathedrals |
Sip mojitos on the beaches of Rio with Bobbito |
Mardi Gras in the streets with Phontiggalo |
Stopped at Curren$y crib for some extra loud piff to blow |
Hit this tree and the smoke digital |
If I diss niggas no subliminals |
No syllable rap |
They say I’m off beat, the flow criminal |
Y’all niggas just beat off but no centerfolds |
Y’all niggas softer than some dinner rolls |
Check |
All these fake nigga been exposed |
One time for your mind baby |
One time for your mind |
One time |
I come through, geared fresher |
Flow’s tighter than clothes in a queer dresser |
We’ll have you leap from a pier, we’ll call it peer pressure |
You’ve been hoaxed tell your kinfolks |
I give beats heart attacks, pen strokes, lead poison pencils |
Turn anthems to lullabies and lobotomize instrumentals |
You traumatized so you stop, tears stalling |
Is it wrong I |
Make the song cry to get the top tier falling |
Doughboys say I’m swagged to death |
I’m bad ass to the white kids bagging meth |
I spit fire you just got the dragon breath |
Your ex off the rag an F |
Luckily I had a Magnum left |
I pointed right where her thong at |
And knocked it loose and like Dr. Seuss |
I gave the cat the long hat |
Shift the bed with this gift instead |
Ill as pointing an infared at an infant head |
That’s a bad look |
Like on the nights when your dad cook |
Wishing he had took, culinary courses with a grad book |
Fuck your sorry flows and your sad hook |
I’m still glad that you mad shook |
Elzhi |
New Tiggalo, new Tiggalo, new Tiggalo |
Yo, the audio controller |
12 bar cardio, rap game Georgio Moroder |
Tigga told ya |
I soldier through the coldest winters |
Now the jeans sitting right where they supposed to fit him |
The battle fill ink but no beginners |
Not bragging I just had to be clear |
Go and grab you a chair whether she dark skin or Vanity Fair |
Give me a chick rocking natural hair and red roses in 'em |
And I’m an animal |
Nah, I’m an onimal, oops, I mean honorable |
Giving you niggas what you paid for |
I lay law like Derek and the Dominos |
Play your position with me? |
Call it an honor roll |
Test me, God bless your soul |
I’m bugging out call pest control |
Nigga vamamos |
To the west coast, eating Won Tons |
With Krondon screaming «Fuck one time for Guantanamo» |
We shoulda did this shit a long time ago |
Cause every single line, every rhyme I wrote |
It’s nothing but that scheduled two opiates |
Stimulates, yeah nigga all kids of dope |
I’m Langston meets Slang Ton |
Don’t need a track for that bottom feeder rap, you niggas is plankton |
An AK to a paint gun |
Competition? |
Nigga there ain’t none |
At all |
Hahaha |