Listen To Da Lyrics

I'm the bass, got the pimps in the place Pull the ladies through the gravy, shoot the scotch
In they face MKG, a rhyme writer with a passion for poetry
Whatever I write about, your trick I must know a thing
Something I be writing for the public I don’t deny, cuss words
I use it so the truth can be heard In my rhymes, I'm dropping the lyrics
Like a dime So don't step in me, with two cent trash
Of your D.I.E Quickly, I read for my chicken and I roll
It up Smoke it up, theory for another as I choke
It up Angrily, talking so weird as with the
Fly with me, and let the chicken mess up your memory
MJG, I’m doing it with the quickness of Tennessee
Ennardy, mount and get a dose of the enemy
O-R-G-A-N-I-C-E-D will forever be
Straight for me, the beat, the stage, the crowd, and the M-I-C
Ball, the bat, make it sit, to back me up, slack me up
Here once he grab the mic, he be acting up
Reckon while I'm taking all the suckers on my siss
Tip, you're listening to the lyrics of a
Oh yeah, we got eight balls, the Fat Man, the Legacy, doing it for the girl is in Tennessee
Yo eight balls
I'm Saloon Dropper, the Joe Stopper, the Sucker Popper
I'm kickin' it with my roadie, MJG or the MC-er
The master of ceremonies, the phonies are included
The suckers better run with the hustlers intruding
Your neighbor's a quickie stickie, C.A. Bollie's large
The Bud Smoker, the one that’s dope for deaf or the hard
Don’t step across this piff line, my category is defined
As being a hustler and my territory just became a rhyme
From the mind of an orange mouth veteran
Take out a sucker then go and look him for another one
Blaze the laser, man, that go my pager It must be your wife, that's right, I already
Hit it twice See, I’m the Fat Macca, the sucker attacker
I'm kickin' it with my rollies and we might smoke a sack-a
See, my name is A-Ball, I walk with the lip You're listenin’ to the lyrics of a
Pill
And now I'm finna step up to the microphone
It's my homeboy the MJ G, you know what I'm sayin'?
So MJ G, where's that?
The sound of a boom is hittin' your heart like an avalanche
Easy to explain, I'm insane, I'm a bad man
Wraped in the mound, not a clown, so don't play with me, easily
I get tipped off in your D.I.E. W.A.G
The young black brother who pimply, rap game
Ain't got to make it clear that I'm havin' things, never changed
I just ain't the one to be sellin' out, yellin' out
Some trash that you don't wanna hear about this wide stride
Keepin' my backgrounds alive on the radio
And put on the street image stage show
When I flow, I might throw an image that's crazy
If you made me, your opinion might phase me
And you didn't, so I would assume that you keep them G
All to yourself, what your thoughts are supposed to be
Listen to the bass, keep the snare in a flash
With a flash to forever last my rhyme that moves fast
It's Quince, who just stole my old lady pocket book
Juke, when you hear my hard rhyme, pass me a book of tops
And let me get high as a raindrop
When I start kickin' chicken, tell me why I gotta stop
I ain't so witness my Memphis Pimp-ology
Don't like chicken when I smoke it, don't follow me
Hard black brother with a curl and a real limp
You're witness to the lyrics of a pimp