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Hey yo, no mercy...pick that bassline up...
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yeah, Jugga the Bully in your hemisphere...Continuum...
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hey, yo, it's - it's kind of like this...
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I keep it hot like jerked chicken, you jerk your chicken;
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If I go platinum, then that's one million burned victims.
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I learned the system, stepped up, and earned a position;
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Now I'm startin' the game, benchwarmers, I'm not concerned wit'em.
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They fake with booty raps;
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I heard somebody say they label
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Gets them niggas onstage with Scooby snacks.
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Where's Shaggy, though? Jugga wrecks songs, you do cameos.
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MC's run, plus they see-through like pantyhose.
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I couldn't hide the fact that I'm fat with baggy clothes;
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Fatter than fat...Jenny Craig mastered my DATs.
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I'm the big bastard with gats who fractured your back;
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Faster than track: photo finish, capture and snap.
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You slack, I got stocks, bonds and 401K;
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You'll never be raw, unless you do a porno one day.
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OK, I can't really be touched now, you get it?
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Fans got they hands up like they signalling touchdown.
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Like end zone, but what now?
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The willy bruises mics so bad
|
You'd think my cordless had light skin tones.
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Or perhaps anemic JuggaKno(???), the bad genius
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Spits rhymes so hard you'd think my lines had penises.
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I stand erect, MC's wake up thinkin',
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'What bad dream this is, I demand respect!'
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Even comin' off the head like Marie Antoinette
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Flows run ridiculous,
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Enough to make nuns promiscuous.
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You better call your Moms to come pick you up
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And tell her Jugga the Bully done kicked your butt.
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Nigga what? Hold up, I almost lost my calm;
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Fuck it, I'm off the chain like I lost my charm...
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Hook:
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Folks say they on fire but they false alarms;
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JuggaKno off the chain like I lost my charm.
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I can't even be seen with the Bausch & Lomb;
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Skills, nigga, your whole city bought the farm.
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(Repeat)
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Just pass me the blunt, I spit that shit
|
You couldn'tve thunk;
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Puttin' on the hits, you just get put in the trunk.
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I'm off the chain crunk, you scared to show game;
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I push so many wigs back they gave me shares of Rogaine.
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I'm sayin', we can fire rounds or fire prose;
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You tell me, I don't give a fuck like retired hos.
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Not the Feds, but I tap jaws like wired phones
|
Or draft beer...
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Get up in your girl like Pap smears.
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Enough. None of you
|
Knew me last year, now you want Big Daddy gear
|
And Jugga Underoos too.
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It's funny how niggas switch
|
Since I'm gonna get money now,
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Dis the Altima for bigger whips.
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Sisters with thicker hips, bigger tits...
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Tequila shots, frequent trips to the reefer spot.
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And you swear my tracks eat alot, they so fat.
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Show me the hardest cats,
|
They get popped with they own gat.
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Don't act up when your spot get blown;
|
Drop the phone, and look at it - watch your tone.
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Cock the chrome, (????)
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Pancakin' sweet niggas on plates, under syrup.
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Preferably Aunt Jemima...
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Insignificat MC's get the dick, kinda, like their vagina.
|
I'll put you where that can't find ya: Eric Rudolph.
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I got a Godzilla complex: I tear the roof off.
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Molotov bomb threat, dumpin' these punchlines;
|
Your parents even say, 'How the fuck is he unsigned?'
|
I dunno, I guess y'all got me on that;
|
My only answer is these A&R's is probably on crack.
|
Actin' like sales sum up skills,
|
But I'm still harder than it is for men
|
With no knees to run up hills.
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And I don't have a deal, just mass appeal
|
And raps that kill...Jugg's up in more cuts than Massengill...
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Hook x 2
|
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Dirty dirty...Atlantis, Continuum...Van Damme...Jugga the Bully...
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|
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-----------------
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Off the Chain
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| Jugga the Bully |
