Smackola - Salt Shakahz Lyrics

Now it ain't too late
For y'all to rumble with the heavyweight
Get a date time and place
We can set it straight
I feel the hate like a skinhead Nazi
Coming through Smackola Body Head Kamikazi
I'ma let you know now we on some dangerous ground
With some dangerous sound
And my style is way foul
It could be me or you
My crew or your crew
But its all on you
So what you gon do
We could take it to the stage for a showdown
Take ten paces turn around
And I'ma show you how it go down
Feel the flow now but you're scared of competition
You're mad
But you wishin you was in my position
Stop look listen
Before you even start spittin
Just cause you rappin
Don't mean your shit be hittin
With them hype ass beats that you hide behind
While I write rhymes to keep y'all rewinding mine
Line after line
And my shit keeps bumpin
You're talkin loud but your boys really aint said nothin
And you frontin so hard that your shit sounds reversed
Unrehearsed
Plan of action
Unresearched
And even the worst be the shit you kick in your verse
Talkin bout you gonna bomb
But we bomb first
Hit the dirt
Cause I know you're scared and unprepared
Talkin about battlin but you don't want to go there
That be the motto in the year 2g
And everywhere you go to flow
They gonna mention me
Consider me the enemy of wack mcs
You can take it how you want it
But whats it gonna be
Nigga show me
Take time
Combine your rhymes
You're still hatin
But the main one recitin my lines
Actin like you got love when you see me at shows
But behind closed doors
Man I already know that you a salt shaka

Now you claim you got heat
But nigga talk is cheap
And if you charge it to the game
You better keep a receipt
Niggas want to battle me but I can't be beat
They try to compete but still can't stand defeat
So peep the game
As I heat the flame
Because half of y'all cats still sound the same
You need to make a change cause you look and sound like clones
With that same old same same slang on microphones
And I'm a let it be known about my time and patience
Take one look at your album and call out the violations
And name more than 5
But you keepin it real
Now am I really supposed to think nigga you got skills
Come on now
But you the pimp you the baller
Mister big rap star
There's only one real scholar
Don't even bother crucifying me with ya choppers
I'ma leave MCs with the signs of stigmata
Break em off proper
Now where your clique be at
Now really what made you think you could f*ck with Smack
Take an ex lax
Your raps sound constipated
Said your shit was gonna drop but we been constantly waiting
Now you're constantly hating
Cause Im stacking my paper
With the skills and techniques to take it major
And you's a 3rd grader on Sesame Street
Trying to sound out your vowels
So you can catch the beat
I got heat
Feel me give me props or pop collars
If you ain't got one to pop
Then nigga start poppin dollars
Holla after Rottweilers nigga
Runnin up on your ass
Wrote a hot ass check and now your ass can't cash it
Got your brain data crashing
Like you're trippin on acid
Lookin pitiful
Tryin to fade the unfadeable
Killa flow
But you don't hear me though
Salt shaka