Who U Won Test Lyrics - Nine

Intro/chorus: repeat 4x 

Who you won test, me have a champion style 

Verse one: 

Meet the mic controller, the philly roller, the wicked one 

Sun rude bwoy come rhymes off top the head 

Said what I said and did what I did 

Never catch another bid, create rubbers and slid 

I'm out of there, ghost evaporate vanish 

Callate la voca if need be I'm spanish 

No habla ingles, police ask questions 

I don't know nuttin, ain't nuttin happening, stop stressing 

I'm headed down the alleyway 

With the smith on my hip, shank in my hand, who's the man 

You won test, who me? 

I think you better back up and chill, g 

Don't make me mad boy, don't even try 

Eyah got skills, eyah smoke mad thai 

You steppin to a brother who been through it all 

My freestyle is wild you nah won test my yes y'all 

You think you got flavor to match? 

You can get a smack for that, black 

Chorus 

Verse two: 

Nobody can do it 

You runnin out of gas sun, leakin much fluid 

I'm hungry like jack two inches away from a big mac 

Then buck buck buck 

Take that witcha on the way down, so you don't feel the ground 

When you hit, and your head splits, fuck all that bullshit 

It's hectic, respect it, the dialect, I come 

Original, the intellect, refuses to tongue twist 

So don't tell me naythan 

Me have a champion style, hardcore with a taste of jamaican 

You steppin to the wrong one the nine is the seed of jesus 

I get loose on ninety proof 

Fatter than a bubble goose, unpredictable 

You never know what I'm going to say after I say 

What I say when I say what I say when I play, next? !? 

There it is, who you won test 

Interlude: 

The deceased resented the fact, and told him off in no uncertain terms 

He still kept coming, he identified himself, and then drew his revolver 

Chorus 

Verse three: 

Cream of the crop nonstop hip-hop 

Funky stuff rough enough to, break up the handcuffs 

Scuff a cream puff like an old pair of boots 

When the nine millimeter shoots the gift I was born with 

Who's that, with the booby trap, poisoning rap 

With the wack bullcrap, we can't have that 

Shut him down, I'm underground 

And if my sound hits the airwaves of pop, it'll still be hip-hop 

No samples from barry manilow 

Strictly timbo, you know, the whole 40 below 

That's how I'm rollin in the nines 

Nine-five, nine-six, nine-seven to get mines 

Outro: 

Yeah I'm sending this out to all you bigmouth 

Knucklehead suckers that was talkin all that garbage 

I am the man, who you won test, punk?