MAttS RHYME .. HAHA YOUR SiCk KiD
- MAttS RAP *
It aint bout lookin good or if u cud dress
Its bout whether u cud face a bullet wit out a bullet proof vest
How u expect to get respect wit out n invest in dat shit da put smoke in ur breath
I was born in city wit da green all ova and I aint evn talkin bout a celtics clover
As a lil man I looked up to big ones.
Now im tellin da big mans to come get sum
U c me rollin round wit da A ave sign
And im stay wit da orange on day I sign.
We liv life wit death right behind
And forget bout shit das y I write my rhymes.
Im jz tryna do me liftn papas
And my homies still there but im driften paces
Cuz bustas on da block stay switchn faces.
At times I may act less then me
But im tryna strive not rest in piece.
So evry word dat comes from my mind to my fingers
Are for from da crooks to gospil singers
I make magic wit synonyms
Yall dudes aint hard ur sweet like cinnamon
So eyein me it aint nasty
Cuz da fire in ur gaze jz blaze rite past me
I dnt care if u got scars or ur chin is raspy
Cuz I popye and yall can take my spinage
Cuz life pass by faster than a new york minute.
And u aint gon' find me in a crack head clinic.
I don't play, I stay fresh like manny.
Fuck wit me find ur body unda waters, sandy.
Sum day im goin sleep in da riches
But Im cautious neva sleepin wit sniches
Cuz das u end up sleepin wit fishes
My dimenours like a hard drive witout glitches
And u aint saver u goin say peace
Cuz I have ur time chained up like a flava flav piece
I sleep wit both eyes closed but one fist clinched
And sumtimes I kno I aint dreamin but still I pinch
And Ill cut off sleeves so u aint got no tricks
And u aint put off me cuz I aint no prick
Ill murk ur mans' in all circumstances
And da curtian calls when I giv a certain answer
"can I liv" nah u aint hova
u jz a lil pop like soda
my raps straight drop heads to comas
put holes homeboys like donuts
I make punch lines, yall punch lines
And I can straight wrap up a rap up in one line.
And I aint a gangsta im jz a brotha that don't take shit
But a lot comes out ur mouth so u must dun ate shit
No Al paccino when I say that I will scar ur face quick.
I aint a dealer or runner but I still hustle my ass off.
Tryna get a dollar here and there so I can go n' cash off.
Im jz tryin to find wus in dis man
liv my life as a street sweeper or a business man.
It aint bout lookin good or if u cud dress
Its bout whether u cud face a bullet wit out a bullet proof vest
How u expect to get respect wit out n invest in dat shit da put smoke in ur breath
I was born in city wit da green all ova and I aint evn talkin bout a celtics clover
As a lil man I looked up to big ones.
Now im tellin da big mans to come get sum
U c me rollin round wit da A ave sign
And im stay wit da orange on day I sign.
We liv life wit death right behind
And forget bout shit das y I write my rhymes.
Im jz tryna do me liftn papas
And my homies still there but im driften paces
Cuz bustas on da block stay switchn faces.
At times I may act less then me
But im tryna strive not rest in piece.
So evry word dat comes from my mind to my fingers
Are for from da crooks to gospil singers
I make magic wit synonyms
Yall dudes aint hard ur sweet like cinnamon
So eyein me it aint nasty
Cuz da fire in ur gaze jz blaze rite past me
I dnt care if u got scars or ur chin is raspy
Cuz I popye and yall can take my spinage
Cuz life pass by faster than a new york minute.
And u aint gon' find me in a crack head clinic.
I don't play, I stay fresh like manny.
Fuck wit me find ur body unda waters, sandy.
Sum day im goin sleep in da riches
But Im cautious neva sleepin wit sniches
Cuz das u end up sleepin wit fishes
My dimenours like a hard drive witout glitches
And u aint saver u goin say peace
Cuz I have ur time chained up like a flava flav piece
I sleep wit both eyes closed but one fist clinched
And sumtimes I kno I aint dreamin but still I pinch
And Ill cut off sleeves so u aint got no tricks
And u aint put off me cuz I aint no prick
Ill murk ur mans' in all circumstances
And da curtian calls when I giv a certain answer
"can I liv" nah u aint hova
u jz a lil pop like soda
my raps straight drop heads to comas
put holes homeboys like donuts
I make punch lines, yall punch lines
And I can straight wrap up a rap up in one line.
And I aint a gangsta im jz a brotha that don't take shit
But a lot comes out ur mouth so u must dun ate shit
No Al paccino when I say that I will scar ur face quick.
I aint a dealer or runner but I still hustle my ass off.
Tryna get a dollar here and there so I can go n' cash off.
Im jz tryin to find wus in dis man
liv my life as a street sweeper or a business man.