On the real, I freak techniques and beats in my sleep
|
The mack back in action show skills when I speak
|
Watch my - leak when I bring it to your face
|
I still corner dimes, but in the nine I'm on a paper chase
|
Glass rocks, mega tops, Tims on your block
|
Holding heat like crock pots and keeping g's in my socks
|
(So, what's up, hopps?)
|
I got to keep it tight like seams
|
'Cause ain't no fiends
|
Coming in between me and my dreams
|
See what I mean, black?
|
I keep it real like that
|
F a "word is bond"
|
I need stocks and bonds from these ill raps
|
Rappers won't see me with contacts, friend
|
So, please act you've got a Siamese twin and think again
|
'Cause in the end I start off with flavor
|
Next to bless your chest with freestyle fantasia
|
Smooth behavior
|
Seeing rappers as illusions
|
Meaning they disappear but I'm hear to keep you moving
|
|
chorus:
|
Everybody, move ya body!
|
Everybody, move ya body!
|
Everybody, move ya body!
|
I don't think twice,(fake jacks) kid
|
You know I bring it to ya live
|
(repeat)
|
|
See, I don't get writer's block
|
Yo, I block other writers
|
And there's been nights I had to wear sniper attire for biters
|
Don't make that same mistake and get scarred, retard
|
I see that tape you listening to got you thinking that you hard
|
But dig this...
|
Cut your hair and get your name on your stomach
|
I still find ways to make your whole rap career plummet
|
Maintain
|
I steal mics out of the frame
|
But now people think they know me 'cause they know my real name
|
While I stay same
|
Doing shows and tours
|
Somewhere in a phat crib(?) playing Sega in the dashboard
|
Styles of sword(?)(have soared and flown) flowing steadily
|
Trapping MCs in mazes forever like Frankie Beverly
|
You know the steeze
|
I'm bringing beats to they knees
|
Holacausting MCs and sees some g's before I breath (breeze)
|
That's how it be
|
It's no doubt that I
|
Got to bring it to your chest as I bring it to ya live
|
|
chorus
|
|
So, from this point on until the day that they bury me
|
I'll still be on a hunt trying to snatch this currency
|
Putting my peeps on while friends turn fake
|
They get pissed thinking I be in Switzerland checking some real estate
|
Dropping LPs every year
|
Somewhere in a mansion with a butler named Vincent Jeffrey Belvadere
|
I'm rare
|
But, rappers ain't trying to hear
|
The reason why their girl freestyled her number in my ear
|
It's my year, son, and I ain't trying to slip
|
I'm trying to collect props and get not(?) to stretch money clips
|
Honey-dips
|
I keep 'em on like low end
|
So, f five-o
|
Illegal, so we don't got to go there
|
It's so unfair
|
How I do wack crews shady
|
They want to be next up
|
Their style sucks like a new baby
|
They can't faze me
|
Mics and man fusion
|
Beats I keep bruising
|
Do your thing and keep moving
|
|
chorus
|
(repeat twice)
|
|
-----------------
|
Move Ya Body
|
Mad Skillz |