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copywrite - nobody lyrics

[intro]
yeah, yeah, it’s us
we here…

[scratch/hook x 2]
i spit phrases that’ll thrill you, you’re n0body
you in the wrong league
“no advantages”
“tryin’ to rip with us” – casual
“no”

[verse one] [copywrite]
the real knows phony
memorize all them lines you want, you still don’t know me
try to front, i’ll k!ll y’all slowly
cats want me to spit it with them without givin’ up ends
yeah, i’ll spit on your record for free, in a literal sense
i don’t give a…sh-t, you like me, you don’t
you ain’t cop this and got this free, it might be you broke
but f-ck how you got it, long as you now own it
whether you went to record town stole it, or home to download it
travel like bullets do barrels right from the bullet surprise
when i load it, be careful, but right when i pull it, surprise!
bullets through eyes, f-ck y’all fakes
gotta measure how good i’m doin’ by how much y’all hate
till we abolish, all snakes
from the tree of knowledge, all praise
if my flow was any harder it’d be a solid
i’m that vicious, cutting for mad st-tches
a heavy hitter, like i got a fetish for fat b-tches

[jakki the motamouth]
don’t get it twisted ain’t no rookies in the place
the only time i suck is when the p-ssy’s in my face
i’m doper than motherf-ckers
so quit tryin’ to solicit your boy
i’m a man and your n-gga’s a toy
look at your ‘noid, a f-ggot at all
i’ll flash you with a switch blade, you b-tch made
like you was had by a dog
my shine mops your flow
n-ggas be listenin’ to me screamin’ “sho’nuff” cause i got the glow
jakki the mota, spits sick lines that go for your health
the only cat you’ll find nicer is jehovah himself
stop testin’ me, stick d-ck to the best of b’s
ya’ll n-ggas p-ssed, because they b-tch givin’ ’em std’s
so what you got a glock to my back, take my chain
turn around, pull out a deuce deuce and rob you back
copywrite stay hatin’ your clique
i’ll play like i’m jehovah, take a rib out of you and make you a b-tch

[scratch/hook x 2]

[verse two] [copywrite]
sniff four lines, now i’m wired on tour trifle
my hype man will probably get tired before i do
while this record is spinnin’ i’m peckin’ your pigeon
by the second chorus
she’ll have given me brain for seven consecutive innings
i’ll screw your plans up +no joke+
like rakim at scott la rock’s funeral doin’ stand up
“hands up” shout when i flow
get three more holes in your face to breath through
besides your mouth or your nose
lucky that weak sh-t leaked
napster wants your release date pushed back at least six weeks
so f-ck y’all, i’m scarface with a mountain of snow
before they announcin’ the show
i’m out with a ho, countin’ the doe
injure y’all, f-ck who your team members are
i roll with the hertz but i ain’t talkin’ rent a cars
backwards in a porsche through any stop sign
i’m like the back of the source too many hot lines

[jakki the motamouth]
i’ll prove i’m an angry artist, you’re my target for hate
crack your head open and paint the bucket wall with your face
all of you wait, it’s not your imagination
motamouth and copywrite, equivalent to a god and satan collaboration
jakki’s in the house
yeah, we can battle
but how you gonna spit your reb-ttal with a .45 in your mouth?
you actin’ sick, i’ll tell you to quit actin’
i’ll guest appear on your album, and tell you to quit rappin’
your whole style needs a b-tch slappin’
so come through sunny child
you funny style, like g-y kung fu
try to sh-t on my city like we ain’t rippin’ you
come to columbus, get hit and leave with +a different view+
you f-ckin’ with hoes, i heard you f-ckin’ with pros
put your d-ck in the river, you still can’t f-ck with the flow
thanks for your beautiful b-tch, i got her with ease
all i had to tell her, is that you got a disease
f-ck your st–z, i amp the crowd
you’ll try to do the same but you can’t
i laid a charlie horse on your tongue
and cramped your style
these so called underground laws are built to protect you
i know the laws, but i don’t follow them like bill collectors
f-ck the rap sk!ll, get your cap peeled
i pack steel
so if i can’t beat you the gat will
tap grills, wanna injure you cats
i’m so hot, djs burn they f-ckin’ palms when they spin my wax

[scratch/hook x 2]

- copywrite lyrics

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