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the battle of little bighorn - you-c lyrics

[verse 1: rocsmoov]
so how you gon’ act like you last and we p-ssing cl-sses
a actor of the highest pitch
perfecting clips from tech, missiles, smith & wessons
stand up for anything, any dream that’s a achievable
evil knievel speeding through
beast with tools and reason too, don’t try to knock me
i’m hard-headed, smart, grounded, heavy, just sometimes though
remember when i was young and broke, i used to steal out them corner stores
well i’m still broke, i guess i’m older
mess around and robin hood to feed the hood
they robbing honey, sweet christopher robbins
cops in the street laying bodies out
you think i ain’t angry sucker? bring out my inner panther
cam, flashing lights, i give you cancer, seizures
me, 3rd, chan, on the track, can you see us?
but back to matters at my palm, world is in my hands
i walk through the eye of the storm playing kick the can
if lightening strikes, i’ll be alright, my headphones blast
my head on task, the 17th -ss-ssin
daily blasting. taking all the trash, put it in a bag, fasten it, then burn it for the raptures
you b-st-rds all in your casket now catch them
f.u.n. in your cranium, blessings

[hook: irisz invasion & you-c (rocsmoov)]
no! we won’t go. (we ain’t going, we ain’t going, we ain’t going, yet)
no! we won’t go. (we ain’t going, we ain’t going, we ain’t going, yet)
no! we won’t go. (we ain’t going, we ain’t going, we ain’t going, yet)
no! we won’t go. (we ain’t going, we ain’t going, we ain’t going, yet)

[verse 2: mutiny]
ain’t into sports or religion, but i catch blessings
while i’m mobbing, making music, paper chasing, cooling
finessing on the high key
never bang, still on my 5 p’s: proper preparation, prevents poor performances
that’s my tune and fuck a chorus
recording at 4 in the morning, k!lled too many loose leaves
can’t tell the forest from the trees, might need a m-ss funeral
get lifted off the holy smoke or ganja weed
letter to the world, i told them niggas “they gon’ honor me.”
not off beginners luck, cause nigga i don’t believe in such
it’s like being scared of ghosts when i live amongst poverty
folks, stones, and armed robberies
plus the blacks k!lling blacks and it’s toxic
hooligan said, “these niggas rapping out of cereal boxes.”
yo we could, box like a cubical
more like a rubix, don’t meaning that there’s better ways to solve it
still politics as usual, no matter who in office
i be the shit, and ya’ll just off it

[bridge: you-c]
now everybody from the 708, put your hands in the air if you feel so great
now everybody from the 773, put your hands in the air and come and ride with me
now everybody from the 312, put your hands in the air, come on ride you too
make some noise if you from the chi
make some noise if you from the chi

[hook:]

[verse 3: you-c]
k!lling rappers everywhere, that’s the code that i live by
my responses are very blunt and i don’t even get high
south suburban, so my words are deep fried
i ain’t no chicken, but i’ll whip my d-ck out and let my c-ck fight
i’m a mixture of aids and asparagus
you other rappers hilarious, while i’m keeping it serious
seriously, i’m demanding respect without a tech or a mac.11
blasting to heaven, while throwing down the number 7
i guess i’m unlucky or luck is just my opposite
compositive, so the negatives are equal to the positives
i can’t spit simplistic, when i vomit off a commit from outer space
and i crash land into a town of mischief
i guess i’m messing up, while throwing up the words that spew out my cranium
i’m an alien, that backflips into saying shit
my nuts are bigger than lacey duvalle’s forehead
masturbating on a plane, hijacking it til we’re all dead
feed them herpes like slurpee’s through a fucking straw
nigga, now tell these jerks that they can jerk off
yeager!!!

[hook:]

- you c lyrics

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