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lil b – d.o.r. (death of rap) lyrics


“d.o.r. (death of rap)”

[intro – lil b]
f-ck the rap game! it’s the death of the rap game
f-ck the world. i’m god. lil b

[verse – lil b]
i’m militant, i’m very based, i’m very proper
and you don’t want a war: you bring your troops
i bring the chopper. cause you n-gg-s gay
yeah, you gay. you f-ckin f-ggot
and i’m adverse with 30 rhymes i let them have it
battlefield with fast cash, you never grab it
i post up with big blunts & maserati
rick ross, the new whip is big body
new boys, you b-tch-n-gg-s i been rocky
been c-cky as y’all as i been active
ride on us, we lock straps, no riff-raff
then you hold cars, we hold guns, dodge magnum
it’s tragic how he left with no comments
never settle for n-gg–rich, i’m gonna rob em
catch me slippin with tiny pants, you think i’m nerdy?
.45 got nice aim; i throw curvy
my game: i run the court. i’m james worthy
from the block, i’m from the bricks like new jersey
i did court, i did jail, you can’t hurt me
waterfront and fam n-gg-, it’s west berkeley
and they ask where i been? i been rappin
you drive cars? you f-ckin f-g, i been g-ssing
in my eyes is blood, sweat and paint, cuz
it’s a shame that they don’t know my name, blood
lil b: i blow trees in all seasons
think i’m slippin? find out! for no reason
i met pain, i met god, i met death
they all say that i’m based god, and that’s that
spit sick, i spit rhymes, i spit facts
i ain’t drake, i ain’t come in the game rich
f-ck you if you don’t feel my game, b-tch
f-ck you if you don’t like my name, b-tch
basedgod tell your girl, she could suck on it
put money on god and i bust on him
don’t hate! i rocked out like philly rock
wrists streetlight: a new york city block
beat your -ss like a new york city cop
flipmode a rah digga, a mind-figure
f-ck crackers, f-ck hoes & f-ck n-gg-s
f-ck her, f-ck you & f-ck me
lil b: i’m back b-tch, i spit heat
post up, i sell dimes and fat zips
got crack: the cats come like catnip
don’t trip: i never fold like napkins
rude goon: i’m just “robbin” like baskins
anthrax a real boy like osama
been played, i been beat, i love drama
x-man on defense, the street sh-t
riding up in deep tints & deep dish
never thought i’d come hard? i fooled you!
ben watson i cursed you, it’s voodoo
been locked in, mach-10s and mac-10s
leave his head split & no cochran to back him
what? you n-gg-s wish i’d fall of the big league?
at my lowest point, sacrifice to make bread
xmr – call your b-tch and get head
she don’t really like you: possum, she play dead
riding up top. real n-gg-s in big box
say the pack dead? b-tch n-gg- the pack hot
all these new n-gg-s is my sons, the new boys
f-ck you rap n-gg-s: new guns and new toys
infrared beam make you dream the truth, boy
semi-auto rounds make you scream like rude boy
only other thing that i ain’t did is die yet
i don’t like that mindset, n-gg-, it’s the grind-set
they way you watch this it could be a timex
you not a threat: my rap flow is bomb threats
stay in your house: i’m stampeding with death threats
think you hard: i bust a nut like good s-x
think you real? obey n-gg-, a hood vet
lil b: i’m basedgod with no stress
incest: f-ck your bride, f-ck your b-tch
no h-m-.. f-ck your life, i’m getting rich
mexican: i’m el amigo, i move bricks
no love for dog hoes like new pits
doctor! i need help, the game’s sick
lil b give a f-ck about the fame, b-tch!

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