Author Information
I'm At It Again
Got that loud ass system.
Shut your mouth and listen.
My flows are so bright they glisten.
Your lyrics are dull.
Can't get them good ass metaphors out of your thick skull.
Put together a decent sentence,
Like a chain link fence,
I can see right through you.
You ain't stopping nothing.
This ain't what you do.
You're bluffing.
All your rhymes are made up fairytales,
While most my family is posting bail.
Life is what we make it.
We ain't about the fake shit.
Take what we need.
Poverty and greed.
Drugs in our mind,
all the fucking time.
That's why we're better than you, because we can put together a rhyme.
Fuck the mainstream, and your high school dream.
You're going nowhere with your career.
Call it a rap? Screw that.
I got that bass that will blow out your ear.
You're singing melodies, about committing felonies,
from your studio booth.
I'm getting high off crack and losing my tooth.
Bling Bling knows the the game.
Always strapped with his pipe. Even his rhymes are tight.
And he's living in the streets.
Got better rhymes than you, just needs the beats.
Don't call up Dr Dre, he don't know how to play, this game.
Call up your boy Wayne, and I'll put together something that will make it rain...
Bud and money.
That special K has my nose a little runny.
Had me a tissue, before I diss you.
Wait, that's what this rhyme is all about, so you wouldn't doubt,
my commitment to the game.
Fuck the fame,
and VIP.
Just do me a favor and hang yourself from a tree.
It's over, homie.
