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Twista-Mista Tung Twista

Heeeeey
What's happenin, y'all?
This is Tyrone Chillinfoot down with the funky Tung Twista, baby
[number] inches of straight stupid, straight ignorant dope funky stuff for ya, baby
So turn up your radio and get down to the Tung Twista
Kick it, gee

Let the Cavalier Tung kiss ya, it's the Mista Tung Twista
Pumpin a rhythm, a lyrical styler
My tongue'll be flingin a funky pile of
Lyrical rhymes that's breakin em off in the mind, I be flowin em holy, I'm
Kickin the funky Islam, my lyricals slippin em like petroleum, slowly I'm
Pumpin the flow of the lyric, I'm breakin em off with the radical texture
I'm one brother you could never get next ta
Flex your style, I'm gonna give em a lyrical pump of the rhythm of Cav
And crackin em up with the word of the wise
I be bringin em up in the flow of the funky dialect
I elect a flow for suckers that try a wreck
I spark the light of a head and be wakin em up and then cause a fly effect
I insist ya lay with the path of my rhythm and follow me like a scripture
Flowin this from my lung, a tongue twister
Mista, my style'll be makin a dent and be leavin the tracks bent
Steppin is the lyrical black gent, my Nubian accent
Breakin em up and then makin em take in the smell of my funk I be kickin up in em
And then I'ma give em a lick of my lyrical lollypop, I'm gonna bring em into my doctrine
Rock, then the rhythm'll makin the clock spin blackwards
The funk of the rhythm'll snap, crackle and pop, then flow, oh
I'm makin em follow the path of a God and my track'll be blacker than Cocoa
This lyric I'm makin is dope, don't call it so-so
Don't dis the Tung Twista
Leavin the suckers soft as a whisper, Tung kiss ya like a sister
Then I'ma let it be known that it's the way that I throw
That's makin the funk of the lyrical glow
And how I tell it, yo Cav is kickin a funkedelic flow, and oh, my fist'll
Swing at the rhythm of suckers, then I'm gonna give em a Tung blister
It's the Mista Tung Twista

Ha-ha-heeey
Boy, that's Tung Twista for ya
Comin at ya in 3d
Ha-ha-ha
?? funkier than that, boy
Check it out
Kick it again

My tongue is spinnin
I follow with Allah and the Father be stoppin the Cavalier from sinnin
The lyrical rhythm beginning and then in the endin
I ratatattat tactics, give em black kicks
Flow of the lyric I'm pumpin and rappin em up is dope as a crack fix
Wack? It's - funky, I'm greater
Never to step at the lyrical dictator, a state of
Shock is what I put a sucker into, then to mentally
Go with the smell I be stylin, gee, funky is what the scent'll be
Harmin this? Uh-uh, the Cavalier's kickin my charm in this
Simply because I'm in this, I'm as dope as a pharmacist
Calmin this? Hype as a rattle be shakin and rippin the rhythm
And breakin up into a sweat, I be workin the lyrical servin a sucker
So never come near a, lyricist Cavalier - ah
Rock the flow of the lyrical rhythm be shinin like a mirror
Hear a sucker step at the Twist, ya gotta be goin like this to beat me
The funk of the lyric will flow from me like peepee
You caught a work of my tongue as I be flow flowin like water
Crackin em up with a flow and sort of slaughter I oughta
?? I'm bracin Nubian nations, race and chasin
My tongue your tastin, a quick pace and facin lyrical wastin
Tungs'll be cut like Jason, racin
Tung Twista rocks, your lip'll lock
My tongue'll be makin a tick tick or tick tock to Nubian hip-hop
Flip-flopped, a flow when I wrote this
Kickin and makin some hocus pocus, focus
Tongue will be flippin just like this I'ma locus
Givin a diagnosis for Twisterosis
Crackin a mouth and them makin em ache I'ma put em up into a coma
You're sniffin dope aroma
I'm blendin
I'm able to break up a sucker that you might send in
The funk of the lyrical rhythm beginnin
Spinnin the suckers around like a dollar
Be makin em holler kickin the funk of a lyrical scholar
I pray to Allah, I'm makin this funky like I'm a hobo
Throw better than bolo, ya thinkin that he can battle my solo
Just say oh no cause that's a no-no
When I be smellin the funk of my flow, jo
I'm pumpin this up and breakin this in with a lyrical, then say haha
Take titles, then say ta-ta
I'm rippin a rap and then rockin a rhythm and ring in my tongue I'ma bend em
And flow with a lyric it's steppin inside em
And get with the funk I be pumpin up in em
With this and it's the
Yeah - Tung Twista

Oooooweee
Haa-haa
Boy, if that ain't bad, my name ain't Lewis Tyrone Chillinfoot, baby
Haa-haa
But we finna get the Boogieman ??
Go head, kid

The Boogieman was speaking, he said, what's up Mista Twista
Don't you know that Nubians ain't never supposed to whisper
Talkin behind my back is makin it seem like it's a rumor
So tell me fact to face when you can decide to come to Juma
Don't say your name backwards because you don't like Cav
Played to the left by def and I'm gonna eff up the right half
The sucker descendant of Canaan, I'ma let my pizzazz wreck
I'm speakin this to the devil that calls his self an Aztec
You ain't a Puerto-Rican, know what I'm speakin, Islam you're seekin
You might as well open the doors of a church and become a deacon
Don't step to me, speakin the pep to me about what your rep'll be
Crept to me because I let them see that you had leprosy
Them suckers that be dissin me I simply just insist ya
Stop steppin against the Mista Tung Twista

He-heeey
Now that was bad, baby
But if you think that was somethin
Wait till you hear the album
He-he-hey
I like to give a shout to my son [Name]
And ?? to Eric the Wiz
Cavalier
Of course Cavalier, it's his album
[Name]
My man [Name]
Kooley
And the DJ Cut
And the whole entire hip-hop nation
We Audi 5000
Take the mic, y'all
Ha-haa

Do the robotic robot





2Pac-Hit Em Up

[Tupac]
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your bitch
You're fat motherfucker {Take Money}
West Side
Bad Boy Killers {Take Money}
You know who the realist is
niggas we bring it to {Take Money}
(ha ha, that's alright)

First off, fuck your bitch
And the click you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
niggas fuck for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming
While we running for your jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
fuck with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, see

[Chorus:]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh
Who shot me,
But your punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit 'em up

Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you
bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
{ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up}

Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting up traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of you
Poise less gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block
I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of you nigga
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up

[Chorus]

Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Shermine
niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you fucking with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight
With my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Mother-fucker I'll Hit 'Em Up

I'm from N E W Jers.
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Copin' pleas with these
Little Kim is you
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the fuck?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked

You're a beat biter
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker
So fill the Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigga, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia click
Dressing up to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it

Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh)
You wanna fuck with us
You Little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You're fucking with me, nigga?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
fuck you and your mother fucking mama.
We're gonna kill all you mother fuckers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fucking opinion
Well this is how we gonna' do this:
fuck Mobb Deep,
fuck Biggie,
fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fucking crew.
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy,
Then fuck you too.
Chino XL, fuck you too.
All you mother fuckers,
fuck you too.
(take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fuckers,
fuck you, die slow motherfucker.
My four four (.44 magnum) make sure all your kids don't grow.
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us.
We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders.
West Side till' we die.
Out here in California, nigga
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother fuckers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothing but killers
And the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us.
Our shit goes triple and four quadruple
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckin' belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You niggas can't feel it
We the realist
fuck 'em.
We Bad Boy killers.



Post je objavljen 24.03.2008. u 23:40 sati.