|
Juggaknots - Jivetalk lyrics
Blasi blah blah blasi blah blah blasi blah [X6] [Chorus] J to the I to the V to the E to the T to the A to the L to the K (with "blase blah's" in background) [X4] So what you sayin, kid, you but you Sprayin niggas means saliva messy slobberin (I know you got soul!) From my Timmies When you test me clobberin these niggas easy See I hunger for ya talkin shit, you please me when you say ya shit is butter Poor excuse for the use of noise Slaughterin there'll be no truce Ya boys'd break ya jaw if they ya peoples To stop ya yap from playin Doc Kevorkian I'll lock ya talk see then commence the mercy killin cause ya mental's dead Ya verse be still intensely showin you gots love for the game Maybe if you playin tennis cause you mista menace Wicked, crazy hard To listen to without my finger flyin to the fast forward button Cause ya feeble ass flowin nothin new Nothin new and cuttin through we be the Juggaknots If you know the deal then you gots to keep it real... far away Secluded from my vision on the hush and any effort towards rebuttal leads to crushin feeble niggas with the jivetalk [Chorus X4] Ayo I heard you comin out The closet deposit ya masculinity Ya guts, the hair on ya chest, ya scrawny nuts Nigga run ya manhood I takes ya average dropping bombs joker Till the family jewels will be locked in ya mom's choker Leavin niggas jelled but I never thought the KY And when you say, "I gots ya back," you tryin to hit the hay I never knew the static could be so traumatic so I cut em slack And everybody singin "Who's the Mack" and "Tryin to be a Player" Bridge yaself and rascal Getting crazy ass Whip ins I gets hostile when a brotha know he fly But to me reminiscent of Jeff Goldblum, fallin apart Breakin as the Brewin's in ya soul, dooms are given And driven by the stress Thoughts are deep Throatin my quotin but the Juggaknots'll never fail to peep Ya style's corny just a horny slob Talkin bout you gettin laid off and then you best to get a fuckin job but not the jivetalk [Chorus X4] Well then there're times I can't front ya style's milk Curdlin close to cottage cheese With ya verbal and ya boast of knowledge Please, kid, I know ya style's def Cause you couldn't possibly be hearin loud and clear and mean the shit you sayin Quit ya playin cause ya thought is nothing Only around the edges you be rough And in comparison I'm only catchin L's when I puff em From the strictly raw (Jog into hooker style) Ya joints hot (And I'm bettin your condition took a while after clinic visits) During which the master cynic blizzards As a rain storm and flushin out those cockier than Jordan, for the swing and miss 0 for 4, no rapport, bringin pissed feelings to the enemy So nigga buy serenity (My style's dope) Fiendish Paranoid, can't cope, squeamish Knowin that the Juggaknots stalkin, jivetalkin If y'all still ain't understandin me, let's get on down In ya case, on ya hand and knee, defeated [Chorus X5, end with "blase blah's"] |
|
Last added lyrics |
---|
Fornika by Die Fantastischen Vier |
Fear of Flying by Mya |
Version by Mark Ronson |
Take Me with You by Honey Cone |
Jimmy Roses by Jimmy Roses |