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work remix - mcclain & young korgy lyrics
[intro/verse * young korgy]
i gotta take a bong hit before i record
this weed is too loud to not be heard
it’s that p*ssed*off little dog, hip*hop murderer
because of that murder, i get your b*tch’s curvature
nah, not really, i don’t want that hoe
’cause, sh*t, like i said, the b*tch is a hoe
i’m puttin’ in work like i’m diggin’ with a shovel
and i put it to your muzzle if your rap sk!ll is scuzzy
i said f*ck this job, i’ma spit for a livin’
if you wanna talk sh*t, then your legs get a crippin’
mentally sick, and boy, i’m trippin’
if i catch y’all slippin’, your career get a stickin’
man, f*ck a scrimmage, ’cause it’s all*out war
and i ball out more than a contact sport
so if y’all want war, it’s fallout 4
how you gonna let a nerd serve your gangster ass?
pac, odb, proof, biggie
the spirits of gangstas past live again through these raps
rippin’ in through your ass quicker than *n*l s*x
homie, the game is set, throw it up, claim your set
i’m 13*37, pope of the dope, the 1337m0b reverend
and if the best is really dead, then i must be in heaven
riiight?
nah, i’m burnin’ in that h*llfire
kingslayin’, you wear a crown, regicide and i k!ll sires
take off the head of the emperor, weezy all in that leopard fur
lord of the whack, he’s deaded first
jay*z and yeezy? f*ck watchin’, i take the throne
crucifixion and a crown of th*rns
all torched up like a burn ward
what the f*ck you think this urn for?
nothin’ but pain will i bring forth
grindin’ in that work with a pitchfork
’til i’m sittin’ on top of these rich wh0res
‘til i’m illuminati, copy?
i’m the king of every single monkey swingin’ in the jungle
my marijuana loud and destructive, total opposite of subtle
y’all couldn’t ever hope to handle my flow, you drownin’ in a puddle
i’m a celtic rebel, you a caveman, i’ll call you “barney rubble”
you the type of b*tch to wait ’til i turn around, talk under your breath, and flip me off
this is hip*hop, i’ma crip walk down the boardwalk, wearin’ flip flops
so if you finna trip, stop, else you stayin’ sober and i leave you at the pit stop
to get jacked by some stoners that’ll leave you p*ssed and ripped off
soaked in pistol*grip sauce, occupational hazard for a whack rapper to be talkin’ big and lip off
b*tch, quit ridin’ this d*ck, it ain’t for you, so your ass better dismount and get off
quickly, ‘fore you p*ss this sickly mick off and have him sicked on
your
whack
ass
yoss!
[verse * mcclain]
m*double*c, mc, that’s me!
i bust, explode, so fresh, febreze
these hoes don’t know i’m ’bout my bread
these hoes don’t know i don’t need no head
i got sh*t straight, i’m on my grind
i rap for food, i’m try’na get mine
i don’t play and i say this ain’t gta
i grind right, left, east coast to the bay
day and night, that cudi grind
mix*mix, sip*sip, veggie time
turn up, smoke, wake up, rewind
press play, then blaze that frankenstein
float like a b*tterfly, sting like a bee
if your b*tch in my biz, then she gettin’ the d
can you hear? can you see that it’s so clear to me
that i’m destined to be the rappin’ ali?
i pick ’em apart if they givin’ me trouble
team rocket and sh*t, ’cause i’m givin’ ’em double
with what they put out, they get popped like a bubble
i’m so f*ckin’ high, couldn’t spot me with hubble
the rubble of my desolate dissidents, that is against radio policy
policies flawlessly follow me, it’s an atrocity, honestly
i cannot put up with sh*t anymore
these trashy*ass rappers are makin’ my brain sore
when i turn on the stereo, typical
radio stereotypical, trashy reciprocal
hot garbage labels with their so*called artists
the mainstream has turned to a runke elliptical, i’m sick of it
13*37 shreddin’ y’all to pieces, raps like jesus
jeepers creepers, murder season, peel your peepers
leave you wheezin’, stranded on the ground, cut and bleedin’
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