| Young intelligent brotha gangsta demeaner
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| The game done changed dog eh tell me have you seen her
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| I’m used to brothas gettin fluent with the pen and pad
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| Not niggas talkin bout what they shoulda coulda woulda had
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| So homie watch my flow and yea I dabble in it
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| I’m puttin words all together like ima scrabble winna
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| These suckas dead on the track yea they cadavas
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| Nigga abracadabra now these wack cats are no contendor
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| These rap cats in the game sweet I call 'em splenda
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| I’m the realest nigga you ever know, no pretendor
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| So if you ask me the game need a renivation
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| So we ain’t gotta hear they wack lines on every station
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| Yo they be like who that is, it’s B.v. |
| the god rippin on that whoo kid shit
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| Ima new breed of emcee on a M-I-C on stand by the resurected game from D-I-E
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| So if you answer back homie yo just think twice
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| Cuz fuckin with the guys like blasphemy just no christ
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| But if ya’ll do decide to step up yo homie bring your A game
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| Spittin lyrical zombies rhymes eatin through they brains
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| No more music by the suckas (Yea Yea Yea)
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| If you want it, got it for ya (Yea Yea Yea)
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| No I don’t wanna be the one to tell ya (tell ya)
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| If you ain’t one of us, it’s a failure (failure)
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| No more music by the suckas
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| Eh good morning and good night
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| We lickin em up and puttin em back to sleep
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| Cuz they been actin like they got sleep apnea up on they beats
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| But it ain’t their fault, sure I didn’t have ain’t come quick enough
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| And in order for how to be hip enough is gon' take these three niggas to come
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| and lift it up, easy
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| without a damn bone without a dance song
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| I know you can’t trust me white man but believe me
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| Slave ship comin I think ima hide
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| You can save them slave deals for them monistads
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| Om hovi like twenty nine ramadon
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| Ain’t nothin like bein with family in a ryhme-a-thon
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| Lookin at the time it says mine oh nine
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| Which means I’m comin to invade you like taliban
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| Hi, hello, didddat, exit,
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| Couple more thidddats because the stanky leg was flexin
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| My words my words I know they quite vexin
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| But I know they more annoyin thean freestylein while textin
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| Geez, Capiche, but before you capiche, at ease
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| And plant your allegance to the double 0
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| You wanna get up on this track nigga double no (rookie)
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| Mother fuck the P. D, smile at me when they see me
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| But they wont play my cd’s even though they know it’s so demeely
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| Really cuz they greedy feeding shit on radio and t.v.
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| See, I’m surprised their never been a kill a P. D spree
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| N9nes trippin yes I’m bitchin when they act like I ain’t rippin
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| Rhyme spittin I’m line stickin like I designed diction
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| And this is my mission when I’m in they eyes
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| Vision Minds quicken entire ripsman of this on the grind strippin
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| The plot thickens when record executives sign fiction
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| Align this with his and his fizzles and mind sickens
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| Rewind this and give it to whomeva’s behind listenin
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| And try an fix 'em meticulous with this n9ne grippin
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| No more music by the suckas, word from Chuck D
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| BDS will see me yet rotation will bust free
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| From media to mediately dissin like fuck me
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| But when weezy got with speedy tech, the nina’s a must see
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| Thanks weezy it ain’t easy to slang cd’s and make a bank
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| When blank pd’s spin it but it ain’t meaty
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| And the dj’s they be puppets for them motha fuckas
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| I’m sure they had it nothin like us guess they want no more music by the suckas |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No More Music By The Suckas , by - Tech N9ne. Song from the album Bad Season, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп