Beatnuts, The

No Equal Lyrics

No Equal video

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Beatnuts, The - No Equal lyrics

(number one
Competition is none) --> rakim

[ verse 1: ju-ju ]
Niggas got me steamin, bout to flip my lid
Fuck around, and i proceed to blow your back out, kid
(boom!) not to say i'm on a violent tip
But my hand stays on my gun, in case you start some shit
Cause i been rhymin since way back when
Straight up and from the heart is how it's always been
Now punk niggas wanna test me
But all that tiggedy-tiggedy tongue-twistin shit don't impress me
It's just a phase, and you know damn well
That you'll fall off in a minute, cause that shit don't sell
Funny how you think you could surpass me, or outlast me
With that bullshit style, you're fallin fast, gee
See, i suggest you go back where you came from
(your mic, and my mic) come on, don't play, son
See, the days of payin dues is over
I'm a little fed up, and it's time that i show ya
We battle one time, you're dead, no sequel
(your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal) --> q-tip

You know we're number one
Competition is none

[ verse 2: psycho les ]
The wiggedy-wicked psycho les drops it like a lunatic
Steady back-breakin bitches with my super dick
Hat's on the jim, sometimes i nut in em
St. ides fucks up their eyes, and i bend em
Down, while i'm flowin to this nutty sound
Open up the knapsack, check out what we found
H-h-horns, bass, lines
Beats get chopped in the nut shop, we don't waste timeBeatnuts, The - No Equal - http://motolyrics.com/beatnuts-the/no-equal-lyrics.html
Yo, i'm 'cold lampin' like flavor
Floatin at the top while you're sick, and 'nothin can save ya'
Just like the biz said
Remember - uugh! - styles i drop to be, what is it?
(the shizzit) word to your mama
I bend your girl like a comma
Due to lambada, i think i gotta
Stop, because the bitch said, "(???)"
So i nutted, and i got out
(boom!) no matter how hot you claim to be, you can't roast this
Nut, what's up? you wanna get eaten up like a hostess?
'cup', 'cake', you know my words are lethal
(your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal)

[ verse 3: fashion (al' tariq) ]
Every line i connect, my literature's perfect
Per minute, per second, and yo, you gotta reck-
On with fashion, cause by the way i'm rippin things
Whoever thinks i take a loss has hamstrings
Young dames, i shoot em and jimmy aims to knock her
Sex with this flex, best thing tends to lock up
Yeah, really bad ass, smokin past you niggas
The chicks i stick shit with, i love your figures
Triggers, i pull em with no remorse for bodies
Fash pumps the hotties, chumps pump with shoties
Shoot em up, bang-bang! miss targets rarely
Mics i touch up, i fucks em daily
Barely another who can test the cool fash
Asses i kick in the ashes, dumpin trashes
So don't riff, cause i flow swift like the nile, son
Tame is for plain jane fame, i'm a wild one
Auto-matic-ly i let loose the
Fierce mc-i-n-g force in me
Cool fash, sendin a blast to rap people
(your mic, and my mic - come on yo, no equal)

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