Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song What Is It?, artist - Tommy Tee
Date of issue: 07.03.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
What Is It? |
1: Masta Ace] |
Every season I’m out, I’m hot without a reasonable doubt |
Raps in a pleasing amount I’m squeezing 'em out |
All this beef is about increasing your clout |
Hot rhymes I got a decent amount and I’m leasing 'em out |
With the option to own stop watching the chrome |
Go home little rascal and learn that poem |
When I mix paper and ink I’m making you think |
It’s like pouring a glass of poison, and taking a drink |
My teeth is sharp they’re better to eat rappers |
Why you wanna keep at this you need practise |
I’m well known to inflict pain, like knee fractures |
If I wrote a book |
You’d be dead in the first three chapters |
It’s a habit of mine, to put cats on a rapping decline |
You get shot with a knife, stabbed with a nine |
You’re career’s about as stable, as a three legged table |
I’ll put out more records myself, than your whole label |
Talking all that thug shit, like you’re so able |
The worst thing you did in your life, was stole cable |
You’re too lite in the ass to be fighting the mass |
I leave you right in the grass I’m lightning fast |
I’m nice know, shit I was tight in the past |
I throw you right in the dash like a frightening crash |
You 're like Bruce Willis in sixth sense and I’mma show it |
And that’s cos your careers dead, but you don’t know it |
What is it when the shit so tight |
That you can’t, you can’t stop do it all night |
What is it when the spot so hot |
That you just won’t stop |
Until you drop, What is it |
I’m like a loyal husband cause I don’t fuck around |
It’s impossible to get shot stabbed or knuckled down |
Got no place on stage with me look around |
If this was the HBO fight, you wouldn’t have took a round |
Must have had a lobotomy taking a shot at me |
Couldn’t fuck with one verse, that ever came outta me |
Thought that it was a big game, 'till I spitblames |
Need to walk with a cane, cause you’re shit’s lame |
You’re on the wrong road, you should’ve switched lanes |
I’m a bit strange and I don’t skip names |
And you’re next on the list, not a second to miss |
And after the party you’ll probably have sex with your fist |
Consecutive this, put them little lines on hold |
I can write rhymes in the darkness, with a blindfold |
My shit will still be sicker fill me with liquor |
Put a mic in my hand and I’ll be killing you quicker |
The shit you spit, you consider it, legitimate¨ |
You’re illiterate, I don’t even feel you a little bit |
Walking around with your big fitted, you can get it |
You’re whole album’s been spitted, I been did it |
You dimwitted, rap style’s anorexic |
When you wrote that you should have went back |
Double checked it, I perfect it |
Sit on it like Ralph |
Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth |