Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song After The Show, artist - Wordsworth.
Date of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
After The Show |
What y’all wanna hear? |
Ya sounding absurd |
But check it yo |
I’m here to inform and entertain |
Wordsworth AKA Words, Vinson Johnson, Jamel |
Clyde’s Projects, music to model job outlets |
Countless endorsements and other deals in the process |
women topless |
like women with they panties crotchless |
Many options, distributing disputing |
Rookies confusing, Lyricist Lounge with some nuisance |
Producers provide beats for open mics |
Line up, sign up but I hate when cats don’t stop when their time’s up |
Jump from cipher to cipher before performances |
DJ’s watch me rhyme over verses and choruses |
It’s unfortunate I ciphered in the bathroom |
Apologizes to chicks at the bar that I told, that I’d be back soon |
So let me be host |
Whatever I wrote I display |
I hopes to get put on and come back and host it one day |
My request for the guest list |
Astound the crowd with freestyle exhibitions |
During intermissions segments |
Legends: Kwest, Eminem |
Craig G, Juice and Words |
Punchline, Master Foul, Thirstin' Howl III |
Rap Coalition |
Y’all know us |
We them same cats that frightened you in front of your friends While you tried |
to hold your piss in |
They’re collage, you’re one dimensional |
No one mentions you, what’s your name meant to you? |
Preventing you from interviews |
Had your time and it’s shame that it expired |
Call with the right price I might let you put your name on the fliers |
Put your name on the fliers |
Put your name on the fliers |
Yo let me get some, let me get some, let me get some |
S.O.S. |
never lack things, we got this rap thing to a science |
Your rhyme’s petite, mine shop at Lane Bryant |
Defiant, enemies switch and wish an alliance |
Beat us or join us, try, never triumph |
Flows eliminate foes and those that doubt |
But if I ever meet my match, I’ll burn 'em, put him out |
Steady killing 'em |
Invisible rappers I’m steady grilling 'em |
To Rise rappers strive to be the homonym or synonym |
Outrageous |
Demanding respect, getting praises |
I’m sick, rappers try to touch me thinking I’m contagious |
Stay boasting, going through MC’s like emotions |
Might roast him, devour wack raps, subtract the quotient |
In front of the flock but some of the top |
Couldn’t fill my shoes with they rhymes |
Stuffed in front of they socks |
bust you with the lead that’s in my pencil |
Never simple, memorize my verse, nurse your temple |
A raw tongue like a sore thumb |
My style stands out, my pen’s an arsonist |
It lit some paper then it ran out |
Alert the masses |
Players is getting drafted |
For those that oppose I give 'em a closed casket |
My thoughts is graphic |
No matter who ya dissing |
I die for my niggas like Jesus crucifixion |
You’re contradicting |
Fell under the submission |
My shit sound great on bad tapes with the hissing |
The plot thickens |
In any altercation I take out two like double dating |
Your whole squad’s player hating |
I compete, play for keeps |
I got weed smokers turning over a new leaf |
I pop shit and roll one deep with no heat to show ya |
I drop hot shit, rock mic’s with potholders |
Rap career’s over, how dare you oppose this? |
When I die bury me with a tape of my own shit |
I hold the dice, diss me and pay the price |
I make a klepto wanna take his own life |
Style precise |
The rap game I’m pimping it |
Kicking it |
Yo take it in vein/vain like insulin |
Simple shit |
Don’t try to follow what you can’t swallow |
I’m sorta what you call a mic-tologist |
Getting phenomenal from the abdominal |
Breathing the words of a scientist |
It’s Jedi with mind tricks |
I aim and hit to split I strip developers swelling melons with |
Intelligence |
Some sharp kids with sharp minds we go against |
Hard times send verse with sharp knives as I insert |
My verbal cartridge to bring the conscious to concerts |
And cultures say call your entourages |
Or they can put in basements and garages or houses |
The odds is, none against my squadron |
We looking harmless but alarming |
A red alert to get you hurt and put you in crutches |
And leave you armless |
Legless, fuck this headless |
You’ve just been a chosen contestant |
For this one sentence to get into your intestine |
And make your quick exit for entrance |
For the next kid who test this |
We restless and reckless |
In less a second you’re S.O.S.ing |
And begging for God to be at your presence |
Seeing the essence |
I came to make a change in this world |
Society’s living wicked |
Stop the cops after they run lights, giving pigs a ticket |
Lyrics my fitness |
I know it all so bare witness, ready to flip this |
Putting palm readers outta business |
Watch my words get heard, MC’s break south |
cause yo, I love to take out |
In hot pursuit for the loot, guess I’m crazy for checks |
I even got prostitutes that wanna pay me for sex |
So forget the candlelight I’d rather handle mics |
I make wack MC’s hit the wall quicker than when a vandal strikes |
I’ll battle me drunk or soberly |
You wanna fight over me |
Representing like this, y’all better grab your rosary |
I flex complex, y’all gon' confuse heads |
Who think they running shit up in here, they 'bout to lose legs |
So pardon me y’all |
Give me the mic and all of y’all stall |
I went from new Rican Apollo to Carnegie Hall |
Kicking rah rah shit cause most niggas is ignorant |
You try to diss us cause I look good plus the shade of my pigment |
They call me Sigmund Fraud |
With thoughts you can’t avoid |
Putting wack wack MC’s back in the ground leaving 'em unemployeed |
To bring your rhyme out |
Niggas know they call «time out» |
It’s the best play and niggas know they find out |
You said, «niggas find out» |
Yo, rappers are on the bench with they coach calling time outs |
Let me get this rhyme out |
One time, my name is Words |
I hope ya heard it before |
I got mad rhymes, I met a four/metaphor |
In other words she wasn’t a dime |
That’s how I do when I kick an ill rhyme |
See this ain’t something I ain’t write down |
It’s coming right off the mind |
Or the top of the dome |