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shabaam sahdeeq - southpaw cypher lyrics

[shabaam sahdeeq]
my rhymes like a key yours are half a gram
scram – f-ck face go rap for your mans
you ain’t no real mc, your verses is empty
your style is played out like lottos and stripe lees
and the lines that you spit don’t pertain to me
they plain to me you ain’t who you claim to be
you lame to me – you can’t even aim to pee
namin’ all kind of guns you ain’t hardly see
you from a block that ain’t poppin’ and ya name don’t ring
seen you with the f-gs in the village callin’ you sweet thing
i’m a menace fool – trash that you talk be miniscule
small like a pebble in a 10-foot deep pool
skip the talk – chi chi mon switch when you walk
you a thug in drag, light up ya helmet like lazer tag
you n-ggas can’t hang wit s i’m too wicked
bang wit two llamas leave ya whole sh-t twisted
you be thinkin’ this a game til they carry you out
son you rhyme like a chick wit a d-ck in the mouth
ain’t gotta tell you you a f-g, fam you know yourself
stick ya head between yo legs dog and blow yourself
stick the d-ld- in yo -ss and f-ck yourself
put the gun to ya head dog and shoot yourself

[el gant]
el gant y’all
that’s ok ya gat don’t spray
i get away with verbal murder i’m the rap oj
you actin’ like ya hat won’t fray
when you get capped with mad claps
like you act in a broadway play
the doorway to crooked hookers and crooks that suck d-ck
they just around the corner the second you cop a hit
or the second you cop a clip hip-hop this sh-t’s a b-tch
til you rich bendin’, twistin’ and fistin’ a dixie chick
pop in a disc and we spittin’, sittin’ reminiscin’
listen to me dissin’ ya missin’ the message that i stress
i’m a pistol p-ssin’ on people
lethal off tha meter
comin’ off tryin’a lock this game down like north korea
so hot when i spark get caught with gonorrhea
i don’t wanna be you i just wanna see you die in fear this year
i’m tryin’a make it clear grow a little rich
and if you try to stop me i’ll expose you for it b-tch

[famo$o]
yo, the way i wreck mics might be hard for you to swallow
truth is famo a hard act to follow
still mates who tailgate get filled with hollows
i’ll leave you on the strip slumped over in a pothole
wilder than a gang of vatos gettin’ boracho
middle finger up at police to free macho
bottle of hen roc fumandome un tabaco
n-ggas couldn’t live for a day in my zapatos
duck the laws long brasos, d’s donnie brasco
for movin’ sticky chocolate and homie it’s not bosco
pounds of pasto t-terre desde chamaquo
ringin’ timbres and your bloque i’m la quianto
famo$o qui tiando and won’t stop pigando
hot like quevando y yo soy el que mando
attaquando mah fire no one apagando
explotando y lo tuyo ya se esta acabando

[nutso]
yo cut ya body up put it in hefty bags leave ’em
by the harlem river next to some homeless n-ggas that’s sleepin’
nutso be creepin’, queens mah heathen
rep it and breathe it i cut you you bleedin’
that’s word all my pop’s s-m-n i mean it
dominican demon robbin’ couples at beaches
bonin’ b-tches on the bleachers got ’em drinkin’ easy jesus
holdin’ heaters like it’s back in the days
yeah, speak on it n-gga [nutso]

[ft]
these are the words of a veteran
marijuana’s my medicine
it’s a honor to be alive i don’t care who i’m betta than
i don’t care if you betta than me i’m still relevant
even though it’s compet-tive up is something i’ll never give
in the lab developin’ flows that’s elegant
eatin’ like a polar bear, sh-ttin’ like an elephant
now i get to smoke my bud instead of sellin’ it
out in australia at the beach pettin’ pelicans
y’all so delicate, go hard you betta get
out my way, i eat with the predicates
speak to the deadliest, sleep with the s-xiest
chicks you ever seen in ya life
don’t bet against a brotha like me
because i might be
the next malcolm x or another spike lee
came a long way from timbs and white tees
to drivin’ all day in a benz with 20 g’s on me

[bekay]
i rip for now, i rip for past dates
rip it for elementary high school and all my other cl-ssmates
i rip it for this, yeah i rip it for that
i spit on yo b-tch and take a sh-t on yo track
i rip it from dusk til dawn
what the f-ck you want
i rip it till the l-st is gone
and half these sl-ts is on my nuts
i rip it for the barber givin’ fly cuts
try us, wind up in your own private pine bus
get it? i rip it long as my tongue can spit
i rip it like a chick wit braces who be suckin’ d-ck
i rip it till all the lyrics’ll sync up
i rip sh-t like bein’ on the toilet but yo -ss just clenched up
i rip mics what you kids like?
rip it for white, black and puerto rican kids on nostrand in a fistfight
a little bro rip it, you pr-cks got no soul
introducing the future of hip-hop it’s dov

[dov]
i been waitin’ too long to move on
you fools wrong
and i don’t even spit on tracks, i f-ckin’ chew songs
hip-hop’s newborn
forced to do my ch0r-s
you want me to stop & ignore that this game’s been stop short
or, you can get on your knees like a wh0r-
use common thoughts and f-ckin’ thank god i was born
cause i resurrect to life what you think ain’t likely
and my rap tests have more checks than a store full of nikes
started off a mystery
turns out my mouth is dirtier
than a pedophile’s internet history
p-ssed to see that sh-t’ll be just gettin’ worse
if i don’t get to work and transform what i live to be
cookin’ up what i see fit to feed
who knew that a kid could lead
this new generation – ’bout to make history
a rapper, you not one – i’m headed to the top, son
you more off target than d-ck cheney wit a shotgun

[flo]
it’s from the valley of people that’s bein’ managers
cause you got betta stamina, time to feed ’em to wolves
you think you betta? go ‘head put up the cheddah
we rock parties hardbody when we’re better for fold
db let’s get it started and let it bang harder
teen shorties playboy brothers like club shuttah
my name’s flo – i spit a though that’ll travel through you
and make your body wiggle and jiggle like fake b00bs
never fake moves – we make music, we make tunes
hey dj, shut up or i’ll make ’em pull off they shoes
i’m a bad man wit bad plans -you understand?
feel me when i tilt my hat and shake hands
i’m a preacha – mr. hypeman nice to meet ya, greet ya
wit heat that be beatin’ from speakas
you’ll be rumblin’ rumblin’ tumblin’ tumblin’ stumblin’ stumblin’
til the light’s black go on now

[151 proof]
i got a b-tch named belinda
born in december
on vacation, she’ll be gone til’ november
met her on the first monday of september
labor day – long hair with a short temper
she left that friday but we hung out tuesday
and i f-cked her on thursday
i’m just that smooth – ay!
wednesday i was wit this b-tch named kim blake
my slim thing checked my phone a lot but she spend change
this little fine b-tch got vexed and broke my jack
because me and belinda be textin’
before that she took my number down and called her
like we ever meet prepare yourself to sleep wit orca
young beef popped up halloween
and caused a scene
like the one in back of the bada bing
anyway they fought cause i got caught but bet me
if either of them dumb wh0r-s left me
that’s pimpin’

[climax]
i am everything these rappers ain’t
i spit in ways that these rappers can’t
flow hit ’em harder than a can of paint
i get money like i’m in a bank
but i don’t work behind the counter
i’m robbin’ that sh-t wit a shank
marine park – 304 chain gang
we got yo b-tch takin a fist, hard day
yeah, that’s how these mothaf-ckas roll now
25 years old now out they f-ckin’ skulls now
i guess the liquor and the drugs really got to ’em
cause the way they put it down they are not human
we ride around with our music really loud
doin’ 90 down a 25 floatin’ off the ground
cause i’m higher than i ever been
i’m in the bas-m-nt mixin’ up the medicine – cocaine and heroin
that is the dope rush – would you like a teaspoon?
have you walkin’ on the sun starin’ at a green moon
it’s f-ckin’ scary ain’t it – a picture i could paint it
tryin’ to get up off the curb like i’m larry david
drinkin’ that henny black, drivin’ in the cadillac
tc droppin’ me off to see some chick i mack
adored by the mother, the daughter think i love her
i f-ck her and sell weed to the little brother
shout out to pretty fred
the next motherf-cker sayin’ my name won’t get a verse he’ll be f-ckin’ dead

- shabaam sahdeeq lyrics

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