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0-10 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Home |
| Lyrics Submitted By: Rah Rah |
| This goes out |
| to all the big head niggaz |
| And all them big head bitches |
| You know my steez-o |
| Yo, yo, yo, yo |
| Deadly melodic, robotic steez-o blur your optic |
| So you can't see the topic, condition combo |
| Blaze bring the heat to your Mourning like Alonzo |
| Head honcho like Eastwood, gun in my poncho |
| Another bad desperado, trapped in between |
| the hills and the El Dorado's, but you can't do that |
| Welcome to the Wheel of Fortune where Pat don't Sajack |
| Bring it to these cats often, the biggest payback |
| is when I condemn men, to purgatory |
| Stick a pen, do em in, eight million stories |
| in the naked Mr. Method, Blade Runner |
| Blood stain on my track record, top gunner |
| Chorus: |
| You know it's sick now, just a little bit, aw shit |
| Can't quit now, hard as a brick, what's this |
| Make em get down, head where I fit, more grip |
| Hold this shit down, she don't know you better school her |
| ("Step in the Arena" sample scratched) |
| Step by Step, inch by inch, piece by piece, bit by bit |
| Step by Step, inch by inch, piece by piece, bit by bit |
| Check my Extinction Agenda, mind bender |
| No retreat no surrender, head trauma |
| Death before dishonor, sword and golden armor |
| Undetected stealth bomber, blow the session |
| With Immaculate Conception, hit yo' section |
| with my Def Squad connection, the Green-Eyed Bandit |
| E Double up dammit, Iron Lung |
| flow taste like a knuckle sandwich, now you know |
| It's time that I take advantage, take command yo |
| Cops caught me red-handed |
| Blood On the Dance Floor |
| or was it Michael Jackson |
| Fuck it, time for some action |
| Check my Re-Runs an see What's Happening |
| Repeat Chorus |
| Before she get her back blown |
| Jealous men don't understand and get clapped on, now I'm reloadin |
| Automate and keep it goin, right and exact |
| Runnin track like I'm Jesse Owens, catch em wit my rap slogan |
| Jack Frost, leave em frozen |
| Bust flows and never lay text/latex without my Trojan |
| Hand writtin ass whippin, I keep spittin |
| At any head-on collision, throw dart wit precision |
| And split decision, tell your old folk |
| and your children what I'm dealin |
| Good times, and hood rhymes from the villain |
| Till I see you at the ooh-building motherfuckers |
| Repeat Chorus |
| This one, is dedicated to my big head niggaz |
| And all them big head bitches |
| All them big head bitches |
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