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manic the 17th – real rap lyrics

[verse: ave]
next up, yeah i believe that’s me
this is real rap, b+tch, and you know our st++z
it’s no comparison
n+gga please, pardon my arrogance
but i’ve been sparin’ yall and y’all need to be aware of this
tryin’ to mention me is just leadin’ to your embarrassment
or leave you to (the) rest in a piece like it’s inherited
how y’all wanna carry it, the hawk or the bars?
lyrical coffin or scars, bro, the offer is y’alls
even my chick strapped, trust, ain’t nothin’ soft with my broad
it won’t be no lightning my queen, unless you talkin’ about cars
ain’t no facade, jerk
flip the ashes off my cigar first
and terorrise ya squad with a verse they callin’ god’s worth
cool as escobar, if i give her one of these nod flirts
please, she’ll be bagged when she leaves, to me it’s yard work
but y’all hurt, i jumped in the game coastin’
bullets sink in ya cuban link and leave ya chain smoking
told me the lane’s open, now the great white back
get busy in shark city, skr8 like that
next up

[verse: saint mic]
yeah, i believe that’s me
this is real rap, b+tch, and you know our stee’
i’ll make a round fly for them birds, see the vultures
heat packer, go hard for the bread, yeah he a toaster
f+ck ya image, roll celebrities up, these posters
in the jungle, they die over hard white, we the poachers
third eye, blind lead the blind, these n+ggas focused
i’m cold with it
y’all [?] with holes in ’em, these b+tches hopeless
[?], needed a heimlich, these n+ggas choking
watered down rapper, got me salty, he in the ocean
i come through, sensei ya fighter, these be [?]
nah, i kunta kinte ya writer, de+feet (defeat) ya poet, yeah
cripple n+ggas right on the spot, seize the moment
everything about my hood venom, yeah he a cobra
and saint steal ya shine, and grim reaper a n+gga moment
no, sn+tch ya sole (soul) purpose, grim reaper these n+ggas motive
we won, hope ya got a refund, ’cause these n+ggas broke and
and ya black around just for playin’ them games like you need a token
next up
[verse: rum nitty]
yeah i believe that’s me
this is real rap with it, n+ggas know how i bleed
if you ain’t talkin’ money, i ain’t heard of that
serve a pack, cap a n+gga’ nike how i burn a cheque (check)
burner clap, let the thirty peel (pill), that’s a percocet
swervin’ back, spinnin’ on ya hood like it’s turtle wax
born without a daddy, that’s a birth defect
adolescent, it was plenty lessons, i ain’t learn ’em yet
get the bag, world was movin’ fast, that’s a turbo pack
pcp got ’em geeky, fiji, i’m servin’ wet
it only cost a dollar bill to get ya shoulder clapped
i’ll put the green light on these b+tches like i’m bernie mac
i’m back slidin’ like i relapsed on ’em
finna clear the whole spot like i evac’d on ’em
fresh wood on the chop, still got tree sap on it
finna set the sting up, b+tch we be back on it
hand you the strap, you goldmember, tell you peel yourself
suicide or i do the job, b+tch k!ll yo’ self
next up

[verse: young kannon]
it’s ya boy yk, and southside chicago is where i stay
i’m gettin’ money stayin’ out of the way, just like a mac should
black hood, rollin’ up back to back backwoods
a stack would, get you drawed on like the tat’s good
where the lies will get you k!lled faster than the facts would
plug just bought fifty bowls, straight off of taxes (texas)
roll around at 3 am, plottin’ on the next l!ck
n+ggas gettin’ robbed ’round here for all the flexin’
no games, ya block disappear quicker than tetris
i’m godly with the pen, my specialty is the black market
keep a legal hustle for taxes, feds’ll back off it
you ain’t all in, stay home or be a black target
knife the left side of ya chest for comin’ half hearted
follow strict rules, you bound to get ya crew poppin’
wig blew out lookin’ like huey off the boondocks
only two roads when you playin’ with the beef
either long arm of the law or the big arm in the street
blaow

- manic the 17th lyrics

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