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ULTRAMAGNETIC MC'S : Nottz lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

ULTRAMAGNETIC MC'S lyrics : "Nottz"

[Ced Gee:]
Yeah~! Hehehehe, uh-huh, uh-huh
We bouts to get gutter

You know what I'm talkin 'bout son, we takin this back to the STREETS
(To the streets..) on some Ultramagnetic heat (caliente)
Ced Gee, Kool Keith (Goody-2) drop it

Yo, feel me, here we go
Check it, uhh


[Chorus: x4]
We gotta rock, Nottz is in our pocket


[Kool Keith:]
I'm more tragic with the treats than a cheap critic
on the net, talkin %#@!, downloadin beats

Piss on the type of ^!$$% that won't go the distance
Take his girl to the World Serious, I'm behind homeplate
You thrifty [email protected]$(s, sit in the bleacher seats

With secondhand pre-washed jeans, and hippie coats on
Alternative clothes, I never seen
That %#@! ain't the STREET!

All you discount bargain hunters $#&@ up the game, and make rap weak
The previous albums, those are the tracks I leak
I save all my good stuff

Little pieces of %#@! don't deserve to hear me at my peak
Mountain ^!$$%z with climbin gear, suck my dick
And hop in the back of your Cherokee Jeep with Cherokee beeps!

I know I come steep, the Ranger Rover
Play Sesame Street ^!$$%z out like Oscar the Grouch and Grover
See (*##$es wigs in the middle intersection

Back up the track and I roll over

[Chorus]


[Ced Gee:]
You know me! I don't give a $#&@ who you wit

I murder you, your crew, and all those fools you wit
I blast shots from my 9, 'til I move ya kid
Aim one for your head, then three to your ribs

You talk a good one son, but all that %#@! is fibs
Your time is up in this game, you got a short time to live
Your whole career, was nuttin but hype

Your whole career, you talked about your silver and called it ice
Your whole career, was sold out for a very low price
Your whole career, your stupid $$# couldn't get your couple of weak lines right

Son are you tryin to $#&@ with me tonight?
(Nahh Ced, they ain't $#&@in with you tonight)


[Chorus]

[Goody-2:]

Goody-2
You say you loco, think weed out {?} pojo
Four cuatro, a couple of rhinos in the barrel

I don't think this $$#hole is gonna be here tomorrow
Definitely, I be reppin the Boogie Down Bronx
My method will be, lethal weapons of word destruction

And I'm growin up lyrically
Y'all ^!$$%z can't do %#@! to me
Y'all can't leave dawg, your girl be missin me

Pissin me off, have her go back, cryin to your door
I won't stand there stressed, especially for broads
I'm not the nicest, I'm one of the best

You $#&@ with me I put exaggerated holes in your chest
I make your lung feel the wrath of my lyrical flow
And the heat of the beat by who do you know, you know

I said $#&@ all you (*##$es that don't think I'm the one
If you pass by my block then I'm pressin you son
I understand why this %#@! is so hard to grasp

You in my class, I'm goin fast, leavin you last
Look at me now, 285 pounds - cats is weak - ohhh


[Chorus x2]

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