LETRA
Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoBook of Rhymes (feat. Dj Premier)
I don't smile, I don't frown, get too up or get too downI was here, so were you, you came and went, I stuck aroundStill here now, stop me how?Your opinion's like a broken calculator, that shit doesn't countShut your motherfucking mouthI'm emptyin' my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I hadI said, I'm emptyin' my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I hadHaven't used all the tricks I have, so like my balls, I'm in my bagI get a little testy when I'm mad, sick of wrestlin' this ipadUnsuccessfully I might addAnd I know it's best to lеave it lieBut evеn I get obsessed with readin' everythingAnd let it get the best of me 'til I snapBut I need to get off the internet (Get off the internet)I need to get on the mic (Get on the mic)You need to get off the internet (Internet)You need to get you a life (Life)Why you waste time just to comment on shit? (Comment on shit)'Specially shit you don't like (Shit you don't like)Don't like it, don't listen, but don't tell me about your favorite rapper rippin' some shit he didn't writeWhat happened to Slim? He was no cap with the penHe used to rap like the people his music was forHe was exactly like themThe dude who used to be poor, why can't he tap into him?Can't use that excuse anymoreHe's mad at the wind, he's in a nuclear warWith a cloud he's yelling "At it again"I talked to your mother, she told me she love meAll she wanna do is just hold me and hug meWants nobody but me, she showed me the DougieCan I get a witness like notary public?She said kick some fly shit (Fly shit)I said I got wings on my ass (Wings on my ass)Told her my dick's a cockpit (Dick's a cockpit)I fly by the seat of my pants (Seat of my pants)Sinful thoughts, this beat is crazy, this shit's retardedThis Instru's mental, too many bars, incidental chargesWhen did it start? I been cold hearted in this heartSince kindergarten, mental sharpnessWhich made Slim a walking dentist office, bitch, I invented flossin'Yeah, I used to wonder where my next meal's gonna come fromNow I just wonder where my next mill's gonna come fromI can not have no success, unless when I finally make itI get to remind all the haters, who shitted on me when I'm on my way upMy floor is y'all fool's ceilingsIf I was you, I would step or find yourself twistedThat's how you'll wind up like spiral stairsI will swear on a stack of BiblesI will tear new behinds out of rivals, even your idolsI don't care, it's Music To Be Murdered BySo Bon Iver can swallow a fucking Ja Rule bobbleheadAnd die slow like Alzheimer's (Ha ha)Lone sniper, I hold the microphone like a loaded rifleMy dome's brighter, all I spit from my skull is fireAll that's missing's a motorcycle with the chrome wires, spoke tiresAnd y'all are a flow biters, so I don't gotta explain why they call me your ghostwriterI'm emptyin' my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I hadI said, I'm emptyin' my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I hadHaven't used all the tricks I have, so like my balls, it's in my bagI tend to get a little testy when I'm madBut gift of gab and the pen to padTurn temper tantrums into anthemsPut lips to ass and kiss the cracksSpit your damnedest, you're still gonna hit the canvasRippin' rappers, veterans to whippersnappersMr. Mathers is killin' this shit, villainous wit with scantlessSyllables rip the planet, biblical shit's finna hit the fanAnybody wanna go tit for tat's gonna get hit with thatThen the amygdala hippocampus is gonna trigger the ingoramusTo think of the most ridiculous shit to spitThen pit it against these pitiful rappersInsidious, these idiots wittiest shit against me shitty as Mc Hammer'sGet your whole squad, send a task force inIf you want it, you're 'bout to get what you asked for thenPut your helmet on, strap your chinYou're 'bout to get you a crash course inWho not to start a motherfuckin' rap war withOr to go against, fuck would you wanna do that for?No offense, but are you retard, slow or dense?A fuckin' penny has more senseYeah, now you gotta get killed, but it's not a big dealBut every thought is so ill and so methodical thought I swallowed a pillI'm startin' to feel like I'm an automobileWith Barnacle Bill inside the car at the wheelInside a carnival, 'cause I'm plowin' into everyone who wrote snotty articlesAnd that explains why the fuck you clowns are all in my grillJoy and pain, fortune, fame, torture, shameChoice I made, swore somedayThe world would pay, less to lose, more to gainDaughter's raised, yesterday, glory days, adored and praisedIgnore the hate, addressed the fakeToured with Dre, tore a page from Jordan cameDestroyed the game, before you came, enjoy your stayBefore it's gone away, but the more you claimThat you're gonna point and aimIf you joined a gang, your shit isn't goin' to bangYou're just boring, lame and more of the sameYou have an enormous chain, but a stormless brainThe most you can form is rainYour shit is pointless, same as a scoreless gameSo, bitch, quit lyin', your denyin' like Mr Porter's nameBorderline bipolar disorder since my strollerEyes rollin' back in my skull, like Eli PorterFire motor (Brr) rounds, AyatollahEvery iota I load up I owe to my motor mouthThis is my note to selfSometimes you're gonna bombSo you might just have to blow yourself up with no one's helpI just wrote it down in my book of rhymesPremo, take us outWritin' in my book of rhymesMy book of rhymes, my book of rhymesI'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm eastsideWritin' in my book of rhymesMy book of rhymes, my book of rhymesI'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm eastside
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