Junior M.A.F.I.A. - Lyrical Wizardry lyrics
[Kleptomaniac] Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie Style weak? Hardly! Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci outta paper bags like Joe Pesci Yo, you know the tune Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!) (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L) (There they go right there, dot them niggas) (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*) MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me! Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es The nicest, Jesus Christ-es Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso Bullets evacuated out windows From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin Nigga caught up in the hustle Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers Armani, Gianni Versace, V2 lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard Lyrically I come off like ink alarms Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen (Hey, you're not fifteen) I'm fifteen, what? (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?) Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court Loose my cuffs I'm outta here! MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin The best is yet to come MC's get strung like heads on drums They don't be knowin what I'm knowin Flowin like I'm flowin Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear Brains engulfed by ferocious ??? runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms Livin in a world where you do what you must If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?
