U Ain't Gangsta
Verse 1
It ain’t easy to make money
Doesn’t mean u should take money
Or even create fake money
Be true and earn money
Not illegal selling white lines
Or importing those cratefuls of
motherfuckin nines
Just count on that cardiac muscle
Leading you through this hard life’s
tussle
And use that intellectual cerebrum
So that you don’t end up on the street
like a used condom
You think you can be big by having beef
Skin cutting, and knocking out sum1’s
teef?
But you know you can’t beat the
Godfather
Who doesn’t have to barter, whether you
is a martyr
You still got no clue who I is rapping
about?
Dumbass shit, who still don’t know nowt
The Godfather, C Note, Tharsan thas all
me
Chorus
You ain’t Gangsta
U iz a Busta, Customa, Sucka, Fake
Fraudulent Motherfucka
You ain’t a Gangsta
I shuld Cut ya, Come back, and Bust ya,
Leave U outside, and maybe Corrupt ya
Verse 2
I don’t fill you’re ass up with lead
I’ll still do sumting, 2 your ass,
that’s dred
Not shove 9 inches up you’re ass-crack
Or rub fucking lotion on your back
Nah, I’ll just make sure it hurt for
long
When I tread on it, for trying to be a
gangsta wrong
Try to be me, a real Tamil Tiger that’s
all right
So let’s separate the rappers from the
actors
The doctors from the proctobiologists
U can’t speak with common sense
You got a dent in the medulla oblongata
Lost skills, twelve percent
I’m gonna rock again
How much you wanna bet
Might throw a little fit
Drown you with a little spit
From the hood of Harrow to Cairo
Took the high road to Mohenjodaro
Cause I'm a pharaoh
Chorus
You ain’t Gangsta
U iz a Busta, Customa, Sucka, Fake
Fraudulent Motherfucka
You ain’t a Gangsta
I shuld Cut ya, Come back, and Bust ya,
Leave U outside, and maybe Corrupt ya
Verse 3
I’m called the King, throughout this island of a nation
Shah, Maharajah, it’s all the same 2 me, so y’all show
elation
Cos if there was no tomorrow
I'd still be the most sophisticated
model of wordological babble
The speech is called double speak
For example if I said I was to bust the
heat
Till the sky touch your feet
Open your eyes look at the concrete
My name ain’t Tharsan now you got the wrong he
It aint C Note neither you got the wrong key
You think Hitler's dead but you got the wrong T
Like me rockin on another beat, right
now
While you still listenin to this one,
flat out
Being followed by a black cloud
So imma just keep on rhyming and look at
the ground
I'll look up if you pass it around
Chorus
You ain’t Gangsta
U iz a Busta, Customa, Sucka, Fake
Fraudulent Motherfucka
You ain’t a Gangsta
I shuld Cut ya, Come back, and Bust ya,
Leave U outside, and maybe Corrupt ya
Verse 4
I'm the best lyricist hands down
Motherfucker just look at your hands now
Who stopped ya? Rap tighter than an anaconda
Only one problem my work com sucks
Syllables rush through the position of the teeth and the tongue
Mouth to mic to speakers till its deep in your drum
Speak with the tongue till sounds like I'm speakin in tongues
When I'm done I'll leave you needing a lung
Don't have to get up
Cause I been up
Doin sit ups and chin ups
And an army chin up, I rip shit up
Punch y'all for pair of fist cuffs with fist clutch
When I'm getting my dick sucked I resuscitate sick sluts
Gettin they clits mixed up
Stick a plug in the butt
OK Note you been explicit enough
Chorus
You ain’t Gangsta
U iz a Busta, Customa, Sucka, Fake
Fraudulent Motherfucka
You ain’t a Gangsta
I shuld Cut ya, Come back, and Bust ya,
Leave U outside, and maybe Corrupt ya
Ha ha ha ha ha haaahaaa…