No Bullshit - Solomon Childs, Brocolli Rob

You don’t want to play Rob, or quit your day job

Cuz I stay sharp and play smart

You covered no angles, you singing the blues like Bojangles

And Dizzy Gillispie, now let’s see

Is he a great one, is he a Gretzky?

Recipes for success spell relief

Rest in peace unless you invest in me

Yes indeed, I left your chest piece a mess, you see

Crazy as a wet loosie, yo

I let uzi’s blow, but no hard feelings, bro

Cuz it’s hard dealing low, rappers bogart, they stealing flows

High as ceiling chandeliers, I’m an endangered species

I’m fielded like a panda bear, not a man that cares

So, so, so, proceed with caution, age the speed that’s awesome

World’s full of fuck-ups, we need abortion

Yo, your win, son, it’s gruesome, cuz you win some, I lose none

Head to head, let’s make it a two-some

If you come from the ruthless slums

Where, mothers lose they sons, cuz others misuse they guns

Bloods run the gutters, other than that

We covered in crack, hood?

Hood is flooded with traps

Like pigeons, wings, wings, wings flutter and flap

But never leave the ground, so, so, best believe I’m down

Best believe I’m down, breath the sound, inhale the drum

Do it for the frail and young, the jail and slums

Bitches bump this shit while they get they nails done

Do it from the Isle that where I’m from, Staten

Relaxing, relapsing in the back of Cadillac on Castleton

Cops hassling, I flip the bird and laugh at 'em

I mastered pen, crafted paragraphs faster than half these half assed

Rappers tattling

Banks in to burt, wasn’t baptised, I took a bath in a church

And not even half of the works, laughed then I cursed when I snatched my first

purse

Cursed from birth, but worse than that, we emerge the crap

So much weight on my shoulder it’ll hurt your back

Know the ropes, cuz the older folks know the facts

But when it’s all said and done, Mr. Bush

Mr. Bush, alls we want is our soldiers back…

That’s it…

«Yeah, that’s right you better walk away

Go on, walk away, cuz I’ma burn this mothafucker down!

King Kong ain’t got shit on me!»

It be nothing but smooth sailing

When the heat shot, now your crew’s bailing

I refuse to bow down, refuse to lay down

Five and turn, and let the pistols pound

Where the fuck is the kid’s crown, lady luck blowing all over the dice

Seven forty five, realize the color of cajan rice

This the passion of Christ, done seen a lot of shit

Felt a lot of shit, til the rap shit in my boots

Like how the fuck the raps get in my boots

Around metal it sizzle, wrap more dead meat than Reynolds

Injuries that have you missing more games than Kerry Kittells

There’s a war going on outside, you hear the fiddles?

And you so called units go head and jump

And get your body severed apart with pumps

Talk slick nigga… talk slick, now!

Come on… fix ya muthafucking face

Talk slick, bitch, get licked, faggot