Fucc rubber, you muthafuccas hater made, tryna sweat me, gotta get my Gatorade...
Masta Pro on da beat...
DEF (Desmond Elias Ford) davyne (divine)
Lyrics
Fuck rubber, you motherfuckers hater made
Tryna sweat, me, gotta get my Gatorade x2
Why you wanna beef with me, you ain’t got da teeth
Tryna talk shit, aint yo momma taught you proper speech
Got a big old gun but you won’t use it so its obsolete
When I send ya soul ta Heaven leaving ya bloody carcass on da street
Nuthing but a chalk line, tryna rock mine
But I told you dogg I’ma rapper, so I drop rhymes
Plus I know you kick it with dem bitches who ain’t got spines
Claiming dey down ta ride but hopping out at da first stop sign
So betta keep track of ya time, if ya watch shine
Cuz I be stealth, in and out, with my glock nine
Tryna drop me, I’ll drop ya, like a lost dime
All deez Eminems tryna get inside Tupac’s mind
You done crossed tha wrong line, aint no turning back
Heat ya block up, like fiya, I be burnin tracks
Thinking you got heart don’t start, you’ll get a hurt attack
Ask dat nigga T.I., betta he say, I neva heard of dat
Do I got da dope shit, do I remain focused
Do my composition make my competition hopeless
Do I got da dope shit, do I remain focused
Damn right bitch, betta recognize who wrote this x2
Back, for another round, you know this brothas down
Ta give ya sumthin hella chell, with a summa sound
Got ya baby momma, like a chicken tryna run a round
Town, talkin bout dat nigga DEF, like we fuck around
Pimpin like my Kangol, ya’ll don’t wanna bang ho
9mm rifle so my pantalones hang low
But my mentality high, so I’m, about ta fly
Told ya once befoe, but yo, if you try you die
…Fuck rubber, you motherfuckers hater made
…Tryna sweat, me, gotta get my Gatorade x4
All up in ya blood, like a hypodermic needle
All up in ya system, like yo momma got dem Beatles
All up in da hood, like dem Essays rollin Regals
All up in ya ears, bumping sumthin for my people
