"Three Beats & A MC" lyrics
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"Faster"
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"This is my lifestyle come recognize style"
Yeah, ha
Eh yo who's that kid?
Won't slip, cock shit
Bust lips hittin hard
Tear the legs from your hips
Can your bang with the click?
I'm gonna bang till your sick
Till your can't take it son
I remain on the list
Watch me blow by
MC's never had a chance
If your reach for the mic
Then I'm severin your hands
I'm better than your mans
Your cousin and your idol
I'm takin every title
Go ahead. Shoot your rifle
Still want stuff?
And I, keep it movin
Eh yo, blast on your track
Class laugh if your lose it
Yo fuck tryin to prove from your skills
I'm bored down
Stopped in your tracks, and re-track it's 4th down
I spit one verse and get a technical knock-out
Get pounds all around
Wear my jacket and walk out
I walk out the game
Your get knocked off your frame
I'll creep in your classroom and burn it to flames
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"Faster"
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"This is my lifestyle come recognize style"
Now I got 40 different ways
That I can take off your airways
Spit my shit rough and only landed on your fairway
(Class) I ain't tryin to practice fair play
I'm tryin to blind-fold my enemies
And chuck 'em down a staircase
Crash-land on every last man
From here to Afghan
Y'all can catch the back hand
'Cept for a class fan
I blast mans with the rhymes
That I use into your mind, get confused, your need a CAT scan
And I'm just askin
Why empty's always wanna to talk
When I ain't up in the place they try to tell me off
Call your next day
You act like you're shook
Keep my name out your mouth
I'll fill your mouth with my foot
I'm stompin on the scene
And got my people on the side
We used to do a lot of things
But now our brain's gone and fried
But real calm inside
Keep this rap shit together
I started off of skill
But now I'm more dope than ever
Damn, I need my weed lit
Before I spit this on the remix
If your don't like it, eat shit
I mean this
If it ain't broke, then leave it
We tryin to see chicks on the floor
Until their knees split
I'll flow till you're seasick
And if your man he steppin up
He'll get his teeth split
Scream fuck you!
Cross a club, hope any weed slips
I don't just spit, I breathe this
The game ain't got a recess
Yo I'm goin full-out
Until I pull out
And leave this
Yo blowin up the scene
So, when I spit it's more than bomb threats
Crack you in the back
With these tracks
And foreign objects
Traverses in topics combine with more than concepts
It's guaranteed to make these MCs vote with the contracts
Class ain't waitin for these record labels to call
I'm waitin for these motherfucking rappers to fall
I'm askin you all
You ready for the trash talk? Your hand's saggin
Kid from the old back
Who's dope and you know that?
I got my shit together more than explosive
Quit it, I know where the dope is
I swear sometimes it's hopeless
And I always keep it grounded
Spittin out frustrations
I'm a very picky person. So, I got enough patients
So, I fuck the wait, and I'll do this by myself
Wrote my first rhyme
And dropped my first beat with no help
So, go to hell
Thanks for nothing. I'll remember
Exactly what you did. Nothing!
Yeah I'll remember
"I'm this much faster"
"Faster"
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"This is my lifestyle come recognize style"
Yeah, ha
Eh yo who's that kid?
Won't slip, cock shit
Bust lips hittin hard
Tear the legs from your hips
Can your bang with the click?
I'm gonna bang till your sick
Till your can't take it son
I remain on the list
Watch me blow by
MC's never had a chance
If your reach for the mic
Then I'm severin your hands
I'm better than your mans
Your cousin and your idol
I'm takin every title
Go ahead. Shoot your rifle
Still want stuff?
And I, keep it movin
Eh yo, blast on your track
Class laugh if your lose it
Yo fuck tryin to prove from your skills
I'm bored down
Stopped in your tracks, and re-track it's 4th down
I spit one verse and get a technical knock-out
Get pounds all around
Wear my jacket and walk out
I walk out the game
Your get knocked off your frame
I'll creep in your classroom and burn it to flames
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"Faster"
"Something comes close"
"I'm this much faster"
"This is my lifestyle come recognize style"
Now I got 40 different ways
That I can take off your airways
Spit my shit rough and only landed on your fairway
(Class) I ain't tryin to practice fair play
I'm tryin to blind-fold my enemies
And chuck 'em down a staircase
Crash-land on every last man
From here to Afghan
Y'all can catch the back hand
'Cept for a class fan
I blast mans with the rhymes
That I use into your mind, get confused, your need a CAT scan
And I'm just askin
Why empty's always wanna to talk
When I ain't up in the place they try to tell me off
Call your next day
You act like you're shook
Keep my name out your mouth
I'll fill your mouth with my foot
I'm stompin on the scene
And got my people on the side
We used to do a lot of things
But now our brain's gone and fried
But real calm inside
Keep this rap shit together
I started off of skill
But now I'm more dope than ever
Damn, I need my weed lit
Before I spit this on the remix
If your don't like it, eat shit
I mean this
If it ain't broke, then leave it
We tryin to see chicks on the floor
Until their knees split
I'll flow till you're seasick
And if your man he steppin up
He'll get his teeth split
Scream fuck you!
Cross a club, hope any weed slips
I don't just spit, I breathe this
The game ain't got a recess
Yo I'm goin full-out
Until I pull out
And leave this
Yo blowin up the scene
So, when I spit it's more than bomb threats
Crack you in the back
With these tracks
And foreign objects
Traverses in topics combine with more than concepts
It's guaranteed to make these MCs vote with the contracts
Class ain't waitin for these record labels to call
I'm waitin for these motherfucking rappers to fall
I'm askin you all
You ready for the trash talk? Your hand's saggin
Kid from the old back
Who's dope and you know that?
I got my shit together more than explosive
Quit it, I know where the dope is
I swear sometimes it's hopeless
And I always keep it grounded
Spittin out frustrations
I'm a very picky person. So, I got enough patients
So, I fuck the wait, and I'll do this by myself
Wrote my first rhyme
And dropped my first beat with no help
So, go to hell
Thanks for nothing. I'll remember
Exactly what you did. Nothing!
Yeah I'll remember
Writer(s): Luke Boyd
