(Guta)
All the people in the club, hurry up and get your jeans
It's time for a rap song to describe the ghetto scenes
Rap for blings, for rings, necklaces and tennis shoes
This is dedicated to all reckless-ness that pennies use
And the dimes too, the notes, the rocks we climb too
To make your mind blew, it shook, well some lines do
Randomness for the skies to break like glass does
Hop in the damn Ferrari, time to race some fast cars
Scream for these messed bars that pass Mars
To implode the universe, and to depress wars
Prepare your knives, your swords and your shields too
Time to fight with whatever strength that's built you
The Fish to swim and ride with the tsunami in 20-12
Provide time to breathe with a 1.5km neck of a giraffe
Engulf competitors with fiery lava, fire we yah-hah
Then kick you like bouncy meteors, to the far stars
Throw "Yah" syllables in the "guta" because they can't hold me down no,
It's only sound is shown when your homies soundin dope,
Sounds phony now we hope your lonely sounds revoke,
So hush now as we shove these multies down ya throat
Yah-hah
The way my keyboard connects makes my words error-proof,
Fingers like terror groups without the air to shoot,
The weakest MC's are nothin more than the caribou I shoot my arrow through,
I run a thousand miles in this pair of shoes,
Red chucks with lead stuck in the dead rust of my shoelaces,
They way I move places you would swear I had 2 faces,
I'm the true racist with 2 cases of due payments,
I shoot faces at watever saloon they pick,
Wait true racist? I meant to say white power,
As in the white powder I use to write hours of right vowels,
With the right sounds so this multi singes on your earlobes,
They fear strokes from the pen within this deerfolk,
My tears choke, the ears so, I fear no man,
I seer hope, into sheer dope, the way only a hero can,
I write from the inside like bones on my wrist,
The clothes on my hips are owned by a kiss,
The only zone I resist are blown by the clips,
I speak words so swiftly you would swear that my flow won't eclipse,
Till my structure don't exist like chovanist chicks.
Throw "Yah" syllables in the "guta" because they can't hold me down no,
It's only sound is shown when your homies soundin dope,
Sounds phony now we hope your lonely sounds revoke,
So hush now as we shove these multies down ya throat