"Crab Rappers" as written by Tonya Pointer, Dewayne Sr. Staten, Alonzo Jr. Simmons and Katin Jr. Ferguson....
(chorus)
Crab rappers!, You need to shut your mouth you don't want none
You need to shut your mouth you don't want none...

(verse 1)
Yo! stoned is the wake of the walk, I know you feel me
My crew might be sway, yo, but I can see you clearly
Smilin', while you robbin' me for my stylin'
You need to stop, before you find your grave on Long Island
I'm pilin', blowin' stacks, closin' racks
It's all Non here, over ruffneck tracks
I'm on a mission, dismissing, all that ass kissin'
Before my lyrics burn a hole in your neck, that's what I'm wishing
I'm tapping spines along with your mind
Cause I made you feel good when I rocked your whole 'hood
My soul run deep, like a crack in the street
I keep it real, so you can feel, my true skills
100%, like Absolute, Get gin, you want to blend with the new trend
I got you swaying, what's to say..., You never felt the really real
Let me run a tab, and let your ass pay the bill

(chorus)

(verse 2)
Now wait a minute, hold up, you still want to test me
I'm spraying out lyrics like water from a jet-ski
Oh no! You're still not stepping
Towards the same mic I rocked as soon as I crept in
Cause I been doing this thing for a whole lot longer
And if you want to rock the spot, you better funk stronger
Keep on, and I'ma have to unleash
The true funk baby that ain't nothing but a beast
You need practise. then again, it ain't worth it
My brain is a computer so that means I'm word perfect
Blowin' through the 'hood, just cold knockin' spots off
Get nothing but a chicken and Nonchalant's got your hot sauce
Play your cards right now you sweat the inner city
I got all the diamonds so hard so plus I got the kitty
You still want to test me, you must be gun simple son
I kick a funky flow like a bowl of rolled chilli's

(chorus)

(verse 3)
Now put your mind on the matter, to call your next batter
I'm knockin' home runs in your ass so what's the matter
A' take your time cause the funky rhyme blow your mind
Strut my stuff cause I'm so tuff, and hard to find
In this maze of amazement I got you cornered
Cut your dimes and your nickels cause you know your money's spent
Meanwhile back at the ranch, take a chance
On this funky head bob that's gonna make you dance
Now even the funky chickens who can make up on the twist came in
But do the chicken with the twist and you can blend
Put your eyes on the prize, we gonna take a ride
So deep in your soul you got tears in your eyes
You blinded by the light, now can you see me
Cause I know that you feel me cause I'm cutting like a knife
With the phife, you flow is so weak I call your punk
You starvin' for some soul, yo, you need to bite a chunk

(chorus)


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Crab Rappers" as written by Dewayne Sr. Staten Alonzo Jr. Simmons

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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Crab Rappers song meanings
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