Lyrics
Yo, The year 2000 and 1
The shit talkers, Jakki Da Mota Mouth
Copywrite78
Ya know, fuck everything else
It doesnt matter
Yo, I’m raw spitting, speak heat to leave your corpse sizzlin'
Y’all wanna brawl mission, that’s more for the mortician
Y’all made a poor decision trying to war with em
With 45, outta 44 or 4 bitten, wanna spar still
Left you with a 20 scar grill
That ain’t a verse, You written a 20 bar will
And I know ya’ll can’t excel
Though ya’ll prance and yell
Plan to sell
But you ain’t got a snowball chance in hell
Finish your verse
Before I diminish your turf
Broke the 10 commandments my first 5 minutes on earth
Futuristic, since my parents’s sperm and egg met
I got physics quoting shit that I ain’t even said yet
Hell is not far, the firespitter
Inspire quitters
When I drop bars like a retired stripper
Y’all ain’t fit quoting shit that I said
This ain’t shit, you gon' hear my dopest shit when I’m dead
Got 7 albums locked with a key and they will not be released
Until I start rotting in peace
Till that day I’ll keep droppin' MC’s
You don’t like it, you can suck my cock and the 2 rocks underneath
When I guest appear labels pay me to hold back
So I won’t outshine their artists on their own tracks
Dug in my hip and the day y’all ain’t feelin nothin I spit
I’mma drop the mic, like «Fuck it I quit»
You wanna bite, repeat it and repent, I’m Copywrite
Not conceded, I’m convinced
I got listeners checkin'
You’ll, rewind the first verse three times, before you get to the second
The Mota Mouth on the track with me
God might as well set fire to Earth and rain gasoline
This ain’t no Rap/R&B song
It’s Theme Music to sock the 1st MC stupid to breathe wrong
Suppose you gain courage, enough to step to me while busting
You’ll be dealin' with two MC’s, me and multiple concussion
Here’s how I deal with muthafuckaz and they crazy style
Put a Glock to they head, are you crazy now?
You want mathematic thinkers come to Jakki
My circumference 3.14 emcee’s I eat like pie
Go head take the mic so I could take your health
Don’t give this man a hand for makin' a fool out himself
He grabbed the steel, spit a few verses about his crew’s clout
Lasted for about 2 minutes then his ass got booted out
I’m sick of rhymers rappin' like they raw breeders
Acting hard but when I enter scenes they beating soft peter
You have no freakin' skill, I’ll take your soul and dip
You dont think I’m real, touch me if you fake, you don’t exist
I’m Mota Mouth, I smash flows
Come to one of my drunken shows
Tell me if you met a bigger asshole!
Approach the stage wit heart
Bring your punk fan (s)
Fuck around, grab the mic, and get tripled team by one man
Who wanna battle, please come and get your ass kicked
You all sound like a tad bit of bad shit
You retarted and you frontin like you pimp shit
You ain’t hard and you ain’t nuttin' like a limp dick
You choose to test this nigga, my word’s merciless
You move puttin' your best shit up against my worst verses
Muthafuckaz, Copywrite MC’s, Seven-Eight
Try to run your mouth