Rules r 4 Bitches Yall Fuckin up HipHop
-The is dedicated to all the fag ass medeators, all the bitch ass fake rappers on this shit ruinin all the good artists wit there made up TV dreams. First thing you need to learn about Hip-Hip is the love for its simplicity, and y'all is fuckin it up, get a grip, you ain't the shit mother fuckers. . .-
Rules are for a punk ass bitch,
can't pass the real man so he sells his soul, a snitch,
ain't got no passion, cryin over spilt milk,
stop wastin my time and enjoy it don't kill it.
You set rules cause y'all can't handle a sneak attack,
well Mama ain't always gonna be around to have your back,
you're jus ruinin good music,
cause you can't feel the power or the art, you jus do it.
Fuck an internet gangster writin wack songs,
I'm jus here to see my compitition and it ain't that strong,
I can't write to the fullest, I feel I'm wastin my time,
flash backs of kindergarden wit your Mother Goose rhymes.
"Oh DQ him, he din't read the rules, hur hur, I'm cool . . . . oh oh get him, he din't reply the right way, he's never gonna make it to the big time. . ."
Man, I can't believe how the game went from men to babies,
Hip-Hop lost it's culture, infested wit vultures,
winnin a battle on a technical rule,
even though you got ripped and you suck you still think it's cool.
How many out there feel me?
step up on stage and you sweat cause you filthy,
all your friends and loved one are embarassed for you when you rap,
jus get a job at McDonalds and shut your trap.
And the chorus goes a lil sometin like this . . . HIT IT!
You don't know shit about Hip-Hop . . . . .
You can't rap . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You think the games a fuckin joke,
well all I know, is aside from all the foes and dirty hoes,
Jus let all the bullshit go, cause one day its gonna go,
so jus be grateful for the flow and lets get on wit the show.
-I remember jus kickin it wit some strangers doin they shit, prolly dont even like me, but thats how it is, you punk ass young mother fuckers can have your gay ass web site, fuckin internet gangsters, cant even tell what the flow is but still up some ones ass like they on the mic, you cant read a fuckin flow . . . untalented ass bitches, y'all make me giggle, half of y'all prolly laughin too thinkin i aint talkin bout you, shut up. Go ahead talk shit now like you gonna kill me blah blah, wit your weak ass punch lines, go back to grade school and learn them nursey school rhymes, faggots, ill destroy all yall bitches, see me when you read a damn book, crooked eyes bitches-
