|
"We here to talk about that nigga DJ Clue, so you know..."
|
"You ain't nothin, all you do is spin records, that's all you do
|
Who he think he is? DJ Quik? Huh? Kid Capri?"
|
|
[Verse One]
|
I open up Blaze and see these bums all dissin' me
|
Ernesto don't have a Clue like Unsolved Mysteries
|
When my album drops I'll be runnin' y'all industry
|
See me in person bet I get respect from y'all instantly
|
Fuck y'all sympathy - I call your bluff like card-playing
|
Now you on the phone with those other faggot A&R's sayin'
|
"My bad, yo! I ain't know how butta he could be"
|
Next month you like ("New exclusive shit! Jugga The Bully!!!")
|
Got folk askin' me "Why you got beef with Clue?
|
That dude got friends..." That's cool, I got people too
|
What I'm supposed to do? He gave me a wack write up
|
Misrepresentin' mine knowin' that it's phat like butts
|
This nigga couldn't scratch a record in a cat fight plus
|
Your album sucks - wishin' you could rap like Touch
|
You just juggle some nuts to get a few exclusives
|
And thought no one could tell you wack, what the fuck is you stupid?
|
I question your skills, trashin' every mag that got you in it
|
And I swear never heard nothin' hot you blended
|
On my block you finished - I'm ambitious and vicious
|
And you gonna fall cuz real Hip Hoppers can't stand bitches
|
|
Chorus:
|
You don't have a Clue
|
When you disrespect the Dirty South this how we do
|
Got everyone from here to overseas dissin' too
|
You don't get no respect here so, Fuuuuuuck Clue!!
|
|
[Verse Two]
|
I heard Clue's hatin' - ya words in Blaze is circulatin'
|
You ain't all that - niggas got you gased like service stations
|
In addition, your tapes got too much reverberation
|
You fucked up and brought an ATLien Earth invasion
|
What, you didn't understand the story?
|
"First Contact's" a metaphor about weed, nigga - it's self explanitory
|
Guess you ain't get it - that's what I expect though
|
Fuck ya mix tape - you ain't special, Ms. Ernesto
|
With all that echo - tapes headed straight for trash cans
|
I seen you live - you couldn't mix if your name was Tascam
|
Screamin' on all ya tapes to cover up all the mistakes
|
That's why you never in DJ battles - you'd prolly get raped
|
Put the plates on - what the FUCK you waitin' on?
|
Got ya head spinnin' like those twelve hundreds you fakin' on
|
Puff made you, then that nigga Jigga saved you
|
Interscope paid you - now Jugga the Bully just played you
|
I got no beef with artists gettin' run on ya tapes
|
But if they retaliate - then they, too, gettin' punched in the face
|
I heard you spin CD's anyway - what's that shit?
|
Lately your tapes ain't been bangin' - it's just wack shit
|
So fuck you - I won't even mention those other A&R's
|
Tryin' to clone stars so broke they can't even afford cars
|
I'm going far regardless - catchin' wreck over beats
|
You just mad cause ya ass don't get no respect on the streets
|
Yeah...I expected to see that lump that's in ya throat...
|
I give ya A&R job two to three months at Interscope
|
My shit is dope - kill that noise and try me
|
You the only deejay couldn't scratch if the wax had poison ivy
|
|
Chorus
|
|
[Verse Three]
|
I guess you must've felt threatened by mine
|
Either that or you too dumb to understand what I said in my rhyme
|
The song was complex, Clue didn't comprehend the context
|
While everyone who does is sweatin', complementin' concepts
|
You got yours, why you hatin' on mine?
|
And I know you got back so fuck the gats this rap is breakin' ya spine
|
I'm glad you dissed me - and I still got love for New York City
|
But this nigga's soft like titties - DJ Clue's a sissy
|
Similar to some of the emcees on that wack shit he play
|
Fuck the gay rapper - Clue's the faggot deejay
|
Dis The Bully? You nuts like the condoms I skeet in
|
You wouldn't know original livin' in the Garden of Eden
|
So pardon the beefin' but I got issues with dude
|
Not only are your tapes Common, but the bitch is in you
|
That's why my real niggas no longer listen to you
|
The President or The Professional? Which is it, Clue?
|
It ain't President cause you got no campaign funds
|
If it won't for Jay-Z, where would you get your champagne from?
|
It ain't Professional cause your whole steez is amateur night
|
You wanted action? Well, you got it like camera lights
|
Don't reply - not even Teamsters can manage to strike
|
Got the soundman pissed cause I damaged the mic
|
It's like this: Recognize nigga get ya shit straight
|
And I might STILL supply exclusives for ya WEAK mix-tapes....
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Outro:
|
Big head nigga, fuck you, I'll break your fuckin' fingers
|
How 'bout that? Know what I'm sayin'? Scratch you with your own needle
|
Plus nail your turntables down on your knuckles
|
Don't even matter, talkin' about JUGGA the BULLY
|
Talkin' 'bout my shit's wack, you didn't even listen to the shit
|
If you did, you woulda known what the shit was about
|
Wouldn't a said that bullshit, know what I'm sayin?
|
Atlantis UnderWorld, save that clone rap shit
|
Y'all niggas suck dick for, it's that real shit
|
I'm tellin' you right now, man, don't even play that bullshit
|
Motherfucker diss me, talkin' about I'm wack?
|
That shit y'all heard was just wack, what the fuck?!?
|
Ignorant ass motherfuckers, man
|
I'ma show y'all motherfuckers how to do shit in the new millenium
|
Continuum, baby, DJ Kno rocked this fuckin track for y'all motherfuckers
|
This what y'all motherfuckers wanted to hear?
|
You bitch ass nigga, it's the same fuckin' shit
|
But this time it's directed at your bitch ass... Word up
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Clueless
|
| Jugga the Bully |
