"Now What" as written by and Opio Lindsey Duane Lee....
Extra pro:

Yeah

I can feel this

Been holdin' mics longer than don cornelius

Will this ever end

Not 'till I seal this

Challenging your style reveal this

To you wack niggaz

Phuck the trigga (get on the ground)

And try to peel this

'cause I'ma heal this meaning your wounds and scars

Froze your flows compose you down from g to are

Then expose you to the star

That I caught you in

And plus this motherphucka' brought a friend

So you're not scary, very silly really

Nothin' puffin' out ya chest

I doubt ya fresh

And billy's bluffin'

And so it's cool for you to do

Your clout was less soon as you did that

Ya shit's wack

Forget rap

There's extra robes in your choir stand while you admirin'

The niggaz in higher places who are firin'

You weak shit so knock on

Opio they want to be dropped on (come on give it to 'em)

Opio:

Yeah

Hieroglyphics rock on

Outlastin' the niggaz graspin' on to the past

When they was everlastin'

Let the times pass 'em

Now they gaspin' for breath

With nothin' left

They used to be def

I guess they blacked out

They need to back out

Wack wasn't our shit from jump

I never did give a damn about a punk mc

My sworn enemy

I live to see 'em all fall off

Just memories

'cause we the uncontested

Hieroglyphics unimpressed wit' (what)

The shabby competition, they gets left quick

Plus these r&b niggaz on they dick

They betta' stick to singin'

Stop clingin'

To the real shit, listen

Get a clear understandin', this is competition

Demandin'

You can't get a hand in

I stay on top, I'm never landin'

Leavin' mc's scramblin'

I keep 'em grounded

They can't compound slick lyrics together

Never had it in 'em, better

Leave that shit alone

Simp to the women for a minute

That's how ya livin'

Give it up man, ya lost it

Ya look exhausted

Ya betta' off wit' the

Heartbreaks, singin' backup

'cause ya slackin' tremendously, ya never win

Ya mic gets smacked up

Disagree (huh), ya disallusioned

'cause ya losin', jerk

Take some time out

Stutterin', can't even get ya phuckin' rhyme out

Who da champ?, who da joke?, let's find out

Straight out the o' and niggaz love me fo' it

The mack poet

Down wit' extra pro, it don't stop y'all

And niggaz can't catch up

Unmatched, diggin' niggaz on the mic

I'm such a pimp

And don't attempt, ya can't touch me

Shut that shit up, ya weak (yeah)

I make the freaks get up

[chrous:]

"(it don't stop)don't stop(don't quit)don't quit x4

(we gotta' come wit' the funky shit)"

Extra pro:

Now hieroglyphics ain't no motherphuckin' joke

So soak, in the liquids and bottles of dopeness

I won't be so subtle to rope this

Around ya neck

We got respect

Hocus pocus

Try ta focus

Ya see into me and

Ya read into the beats

Sweet

Is my style, I'm disturbed

I got a list and mile

Of mc's that don't pile the right vowels

I'll, listen and laugh (ha, ha, ha...)

While you don't have what we have, I'm dismissin' yo' staff

And if you ain't followin' then you missin' the wrath

Have you forgotten, I'm fed up

Shut up, when I'm speakin'

While you're seekin'

A style we rock on the weekend

Now you're peekin'

At me and my man while we're freakin', reekin'

The smell of funks

Punks, get the leakin' (ha)

From the dillz (but they still ain't fresh)

Time ta chill. . .


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Now What" as written by Duane Lee Adam Carter

Lyrics © A SIDE MUSIC LLC D/B/A MODERN WORKS MUSIC PUBLISHING

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

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