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copywrite - that's a wrap lyrics

[intro]
yo dom!
j dilla!

let’s roll that weed and get hiiigh
{what y’all n-ggas know?}
that’s what i need to get byyy
let’s roll that weed and get hiiigh
that’s what i need to get byyy

[verse 1: king.dom]
yo, your clique is subpar
and all that you sh-t you spittin’ thus far
small talk: like a midget b-tch on russ parr
you all see me flying by you, drivin’ in your sl-t’s car:
face where my nuts are
play wit’ your bus card
brains and the blunt spark, missin’ that b-tch?
i just skeeted in her mouth and now you kissin’ them lips
that sh-t is just sick
say something and i’m dottin’ your ‘i’
you could catch a jimmy snooker off the top of my ride
you stop and you die, who’s going with ‘em?
they always foldin’ pigeon(?)
y’all hoes is missin’ like the soldiers in the coalition
you hold the soul position, knowin’ that your gold’ll glisten
cats be rappin’ platinum, why you holdin’ on to old traditions?
flat broke: i’m mixin’ gin and kahlua
‘til that day i pop cris’ like i’m stealin’ on luda
i’m stealing your hoes, eventually i’m stealing they throats
you got the same tv, then i’mma steal your remote

[hook: copywrite & king.dom]
and that’s a wrap
condom strapped in the back of the acc’
and if it break, i’m gettin’ brain while slappin’ that -ss
and that’s a wrap
and if a girl got some cabbage to p-ss
i got a wrap – i’m rollin’ it and tappin’ that -ss
and that’s a wrap
hold up, re-open it and stash it with hash
now p-ss it back, blitz the ‘gac, ash it, and p-ss it on back
and that’s a wrap
he’s over-p-ssionate and g-ssed with his raps
that sh-t is trash, fall back or get slapped with a mac
and that’s a wrap

[verse 2: copywrite]
i’mma be honest y’all, my last sh-t it could’ve been hotter y’all
but i ain’t mad at the love i got from y’all, not at all
and if you think i’m new to this game, i been doing this thing
so long got the instruction manual tattooed to my brain
man, these little tykes, where they gettin’ it hyper?
i was sh-ttin’ in cyphers when you were sh-ttin’ in diapers
i was spittin’ that fire when you were sittin’ in choir
role model with a c0ke bottle you b-tches admire
sh-t, you b-tches wish i’d pull a jigga, just quit and retire
just gettin’ started though, i spit that r-t-rded flow
that can’t-count-to-8-graduate-from-kindergarten-flow
spanish mamis mow my lawn, i call ‘em my “garden hoes”
i gotta thank the haters, that’s my motivation
i’mma be greater from the incubator to the cremator
one strike, and that’s it
if you hate, your -ss out
the garage is locked up
it’s too late to back out
i’m in a cl-ss by myself, ain’t no kids’ grades near me
ix-nay on ‘em trying to spit they theory
if they get “yea” near me
better have their weapons drawn
or i’ll get the best of y’all like a mixtape series

[verse 3: copywrite]
i’m laid back, asap i spit
and have your boy pointing to the toilet like “ain’t that some sh-t?”
and until the cows come home, i’mma milk this b-tch
go get you a personal trainer – you ain’t built for this
man, i’m on fire the furnace blew already
i ain’t concerned with you, it’s petty
i burn you with a semi
then turn you to a veggie, then toss my heat
hate vegetables, so nah, i don’t squash my beef
man, i’m fresh to death and check some sweats
and brought some cats that’ll love to turn ya flesh to mesh
i’m too raw to get cooked
but you all can get took
‘cause you draw then get shook
like an etch-a-sketch
i’ll prove all you kids’ p-ss
and too small to give push(?)
so move on and get juxed
but i’m off of that hennessey
remember me?
yeah, i rub it in and floss on my enemies
newcomer like i lost my virginity

[verse 4: king.dom]
for real?
you might heal mentally, but them scars’ll last
i’ll have that -ss like kanye looked, after the car crash
(?)of all p-ssed, the compet-tion got to stop and listen
once the glock is spittin’, god is sittin’ with my opposition
test us – you feel the tec from the chest up
tore out the frame like a picture of your ex-sl-t, messed up
you all over the street
so get low like the ying-yang twins or memph bleek
‘cause i’m, down to split your mind, body, and soul
i’ll leave your consciousness along the side of the road
out of control, the hoes, they know that type
chickens who want the d-ck screamin’ {i know that’s right}
i roll at night, wit’ your broad
back of that “oh lord”
she ridin’ with me and tryin’ to get me to go raw
but it ain’t worth it to twerk it, man i ain’t one for waitin’
if i’m burstin’ that b-tch is birthin’ the son of satan
while laying pipe, your dame’s right: i’m sick with it
my game’s tight – she came twice in six minutes
yeah, i bust my sh-t then i’m dippin’
count my money twice, then wash my d-ck in the kitchen
your b-tch is a pigeon
ya hit and dip, your sh-t’ll be itchin’, in different positions
just spit it on the lip then i’m missin’

- copywrite lyrics

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