Lyrics
My beats are slamming
My beats are slamming from the rugged programming
My man, Bob Marley, hey, my man, I'm jamming
You could never touch the stamina while I'm ramming the-
Hip-hop crowd makes me rah, rah, rah
Other MCs got flipped with the ease
Begging me for mercy, gon' stop the music please
No, 'cause I'm a pro, rap to the convo
Make a crowd say ho at a strip show
Represent, my name is Ason, keep calm
Rhyme's too smoky, funky like a stink bomb
Boom, blowing up niggas better than pulling the trigger
So you better run for cover
Niggas gotta loosen they ass, felt the glass
A 40-ounce bottle, yo, yo, yo, money, yo, pass
I sweat it live
Is he gonna live, doc? No, the nigga dies
The maximum of MCs are populating
The minimum of those MCs are dominating
Now all that together now, to what? What? Who?
Rhymes come stinky like a girl's poo-poo
Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Ah, shit, here I go once again
Rhymes get shitty from the time that I spend
I come old like toe fungus mold
Ask my grand-pop, pop duke, gave me soul
Then I came with that old Al Green shit
Saa-die, taught me the ballistic
I get you blurry in your eye with a high note
Down, to the Brownsville, oops, you got smoked
The shit I'm dropping is stinking up your area
When I shoot it through like a messenger carrier
I keep my breath smelling like shit, so I can get funky
Baby, I'm not having it
Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa
The Hellfire style
Dragon fist
Horse fist
Bastard, I didn't know who you were