jove the vandal – outta control (well-taught) – 0 to 100 freestyle lyrics
[intro]
yeah
if hip hop is dead, then these verses are ghost-written
jovan
[verse 1]
i like my rap hardcore and my beef raw
stuntin’ like i parkour
bustin’ into backdoors
bringin’ on the mac dose
f-ck any rapper that lack prose his mama and his dad’s hoes
k.dot i’m hula hoopin with your bar
sh-t ain’t really that hard
i’m underwhelmed, ask for help
i spit razors
hotter than spice i bring flava
well-raised the h-ll-raiser
yeah i been on that sh-t for years
shut the f-ck up!
i don’t take sh-t from queers
i’m fierce if there’s tears than jovan was here
richer than lear, my words is cristal clear
many roofs boy i tear off
smirnoff
hittin till i clear off
canada goose and grey goose
the animal’s loose
armani shoes, more booze, bugatti cruise, mind fuze
don’t “w-ssup” my crew
leave you hanging on the noose
i got strange fruits
sauce and juice
step up in my kitchen with them bulletproof suits
with them duce duce
turning em to couscous
ah!
[chorus]
tommy gun to your tummy son
we gon’ do it right
tommy gun to your tummy son
we gon’ do it right
[verse 2]
lyrics so sharp that my game on point
with bars as solid as guantanamo joint’s
you lookin at the man that brought hip hop back
slaughtered again and fit its pieces in a ziplock bag
step out the benz full of cougars in a jag
flaunting skull flags
tick tock to the clock, boy that toe tag
your mama should’ve named you jane doe
worldplay insane tho
who gon top me
drop me nah not me
you wishin i was dead
jack all my style put your name on the creds
but i’m alive and well, bringing trauma to beds
bottom reds
i porked ya bish like she was part of the feds
like jones nuttin but jug and head
i’m only undercover when it comes to chicks yeah
i’d rather immolate than testify
i’m finna show you pigs can fly
yeah
so many punchlines, it’s a crime
i’ll leave ya face full of bruises at every rhyme
michigan, we gon exit your exodus
rocks wit us, 0 knocks hit us
rocks is nuts
more carats than bugs bunny
the kind of sh-t to make your huss naughty
for nothing bruv just gunny
insane you’d swear my tunes looney
writing rimes that make the moon gloomy
darker than a snuff movie
i don’t bluff homie
i don’t need sl-ts roofied
i just jump out the buff subie
cashing checks like bodies
crossing white names off black-lists, cause rap taught me
hun!
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