Straight Spittin' Lyrics - Singles - Flipmode Squad

I'll bust all you cats in the game for malpractice 

I'm in Jersey, where I'm paying no taxes 

I'll stick your girl, Agnus 

Flipmode bring the madness 

Platinum status, Rampage I'm the baddest 

Check the credit, yo you might as well dead it 

I said it, fuck the edit, it's uncut 

Nigga what, it's crunch time for me to shine 

I'm a show you easily for me to take mine 

Pass my nickel plated nine, call me Einstein 

Buck a shot two times and stick you for your rhyme 

Put you in a pine box 

You and your whole family's on detox 

Hustlin crack for Reeboks 

Holy socks, cut you with my ox 

Rampage got the city locked 

And your function, to the Flat Bush junction 

Causin rambunction, watch me do you somethin 

Baby Sham on some new shit 

New and exclusive 

5'3", Caramel, tight grip on a four fifth 

Leave em all stiff, blow smoke from this foul drift 

Nigga with the 6 story, throw em off the cliff 

As I speak the shit to put my name on the list 

The small thug with a slug put a mark on his wrist 

A tattoo of pyramids, puttin hollows in clips 

Peeped your gat, jammed tight, Ross your lookin to riff, what the fuck? 

QB's type shit, cause we runnin your clique 

See me in the drop, with your six, sayin she snitched 

But never that, 'cause o, high beam through the window 

My lookouts move slow, they heard you never blast though 

Got a safe in your crib, sham, you know the code 

Search, spoke out, 3, 2, 1, that's zero 

Took the c notes and flip mode left on the quietest note 

Swallowed these then cleared your throat 

Bitch ass, you should have spoke 

GIMMIE AN F 

Fuck the bullshit, fire my gun 

Fly a nigga head, fuck it for fun 

Fuck where you from 

GIMMIE AN L 

Layin on beaches, killin all leeches 

Love to break a liar face 

Pick up the pieces, yo 

GIMMIE AN I 

Intelligence eliminates all irrelavance 

Icon of immaculate rhyme common sense 

GIMMIE A P 

Powerful professional 

Poppin my pistol 

Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pitbulls 

GIMMIE AN M 

Master of all missions 

Maker of decisions 

Head on collisions 

Massacre the meat rack, ask the women 

GIMMIE AN O 

Got niggas open, open heart surgery 

Rhyme so official, overthrow governments 

Shit is nursery 

GIMMIE A D 

Diggin my dick all inside your chick 

Dominate the heavyweight division 

Rhymin district 

GIMMIE AN E 

Everlasting slang 

Eternal ebonics 

Lyrical e-mail 

Stabalize livin in all my economics 

SQUAD 

Group of men, women 

Unified force 

Squadron 

Movin like one in unison 

Beg your pardon 

What they call me 

A hundred on a Harley 

Out of nowhere, and keep you surfin like Brawley 

Narley! I'm the bitch with the pistol 

Woody Woodpecker or L.L. at the Bristol 

Official stand, hold it down in Trent 

Then link up at the tunnel with the rest of my camp 

Paper like Meade, I'm in the mix like Speed 

And be screamin on the mic till my tonsils bleed 

Yeah that's the way it is 

Like when a kid get chirstened 

Like comin to the bricks to find your whip missin 

Rockin uptown, on down to west Howston 

Houston, peace to my bitches that's boostin 

After juicin, I'm a straight black ball a rapper 

Tap a nigga's nerves like them hackers 

Be goin on the modem, I get the call from the dispatcher 

Then show them mother f'ers what I'm after 

Yo I back slap a wack mc for trying to be 

Something he not, pull his card, blow up his spot 

Nigga talkin bout murder but ain't committin one 

Niggas talkin bout gats but ain't bustin one 

Yo, I see you in the, portrayin like you a thug 

Yea, your man got a gatt, but he ain't bustin no slug 

You 

You's a local black spokesman, I split your front open 

Viscious knife wound, fucked up like Ron Goldman 

Spliff, I spit, fully equipped for any bullshit 

Grew up with the bad and ugly, quick to pull shit 

Ignorant, vulgar, on your taperecorder 

Idol to your son and probably lover to your daughter 

Fatman son, wilted grandson, nephew, Frank the cousin 

Uh huh, one more time, uh huh, Spliff, come on 

Bust my gun, like Columbians 

Make niggas colapse like fucked up lungs 

Better obey the laws of the land 

Or lay still like soldiers of fortune in Nam 

Closed coffin with flags folded in half 

Triangular shape, blow out the candles with grace 

For fabulous tastes, some will, battle for space 

Pay the ultimate price, poltergeist 

Put the holy ghost in your life, bring you closer to Christ 

Focus your dice, when the vulture's in flight 

Resculpture the mic, then smash heads like the opium bite 

Prophet in vein, Metropolis claim body and soul 

ID's controlled in the optical frame 

Never stoppin the game 

Remove your squad with steady plans 

I body slam punks like Superstar Billy Gramm 

Straight spittin, word is bond, Flip Mode Squad, Striaght spittin, Lyrical 

Ass Whippin, We straight spittin