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Millenium Dis
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for a 5-10 min. title bout...dropped it on the 1-year anniversary of when i got the title...some on the spot vocals w/ polished lyrics...beats: Atmosphere-"Party for the Fight to Write", High & Mighty f/ Eminem-"Last Hit", De la Soul-"Oooh"
underground battle battle
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Song Info
Charts
Peak #336
Peak in subgenre #23
Author
SiniStir Knot
Rights
nah
Uploaded
April 27, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 9.8 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Lyrics
Comin’ from the hood..I know u ain’t a thug/ At night the hose only came out..ta wash away the blood/ (Break) U ain’t stuck nooo body..even cute’uns in a porn mag/ U was BORN fag Neutered like ur board tag/ RAPIN’...the DEAD...a’ be the only way u takin a head/ U put a pillow in the case, u only makin ya bed/ N’ yet u talkin bout some robbery schemes.../ Ya crew is probably fiends...n’ u GOTTA have HEEMS!/ Sa u takin all the loot...U ain’t got balls ta shoot/ I got proof..u only went ta jail cuz u’s a rotten fruit/ What I’ma do...ta white CHOC-late Akmed/ U don’t deserve a rhyme....drop dead/ Pitch black (huh)...Don’t pop lead..or click-lllack/ Just hit the sack..yeah go’heaad...kickback/ The way I kick it THAT’a kiccck ya gun away/ ..U MIGHTA done a DAY..leavin parking tickets un-paid/ There’s more than one way that u can ta lie a thief up/ Armed robbery..u don’t say..I don’t buy it either/ May-be..his man asked..could HE hold..could’ee get a favor/ Forgot ta put it in his hole...then he remembered later/ Often U might think its forced in/ But ever since he was young, he was a fan of Big Bossman/ They woulda handcuffed u but ya man love to/ ..Club u? They aint wanna give u nuttn’a STAND UP to/ No tolerance for play fights, cops read u ya GAY rights/ Convicted of a HEAD case...the same night/ Since ur little n’ gay..and even dwindled away/ They probly locked u in a bird cage ta sit in all day/ Allow me ta explain...the only time I feel u’d snap out/ Is in the men’s room w/ a BATH TOWEL u wack...!CLOWN!/ Back DOWN or like the last house u passed around in/ ..I’ll give ya Everlast soundin ASS a ass-POUNDIN/ See first he was untouchable like Elliot Ness/ N’ Milli was a problem...called “getting ta yes”/ INITIALLY he ducked a nasty jungle of love../ But “after” just a couple o’ months, they was up in dum guts/ An’ he loved it so much, that he forgot WHAT he was/ The pussy PUNK bitch that sent the lock-up a buzz/ U show ya hole on a hello now and it’ll be fucked/ ..Cuz thug...u flashin yellow like utility trucks/ U in the prison academy (like): “I think these big men are mad at me”/ Ya “A” was in the middle like the symbol for anarchy/ It’s sensible u thinkin’ u the BAD ass mc/ N’ quickly u was glad ta be its sick n sad ta see/ Smell me like da'feat..of ya cellie in ya sheets/ U make Toledo BLOW ur the Nelly of ur street/ Yooou TELL EM! Mr. Ree's New Delhi fa' ya meat/ U in the belly of The Beazt was puttin jelly in his seat/ Bang his navel like u bang the table/ ...I understand why he don't walk the talk..cuz his ASS aint able/ Why u mackin ta shai?...w/ some masculine lies/ She like ALL GIRLS..she ain’t gon be satisfied w/ THAT inside/ Ta let ‘er have a try at what u practiced on guys?/ Ya shit probly look like it was trapped in ur fly!/ U was a bitch of Riker’s hitch-hiker askin fa Ride’s/ Every time somebody passed by, ur ASS was in the sky/ I know..they was eatin ya food that shit ain’t even cool/ A man that treat’chu cruel’ee made u sleep in the nude/ But stay away from boo..and YO!..it goes the same fa my crew/ We hate u dudes I mean..if it’s all the same ta u/ Crew u ALL wit me...don’t try ta calm milli/ U’ll only set his ass on fire like some 5 alarm chili/ Only time u'll see em concentrate is ask how many cocks he ate/ Two THOUSAND?!! HOOOLY shit yo...MY mistake!!/ If I said "God can u CLEANSE me!” u havin thoughts o' u IN me/ FUCK walkin in ya shoes... I dont wanna JOG ur mem'ry!/ Causing YOU ta run..understand u can’t do me NONE/ Even ya chewing gum is flavored after human cum/ Like edible snails left in they sssells..I heard u ready as hell/ Ta send my head in the mail..like ur letters back ta jail/ Handle ya bid-Ness I ain’t askin fagiveness/ U need help...and more than ya mans w/ red ribbons/ If u hit the net hard n’ more than amateur tennis..quiet/ U got no fans inside except a San Francisco Giant/ Don’t even spit what u might like OUT
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