Brooks: Let me see, when you talk when you talk into that
|
Little Girl: Uh huh?
|
Brooks: That thing right there
|
Little Girl: Um hmm.
|
Brooks: It makes your voice come out
|
Little Girl: Ohh.
|
Brooks: They can hear it in there
|
Little Girl: A Ohhh!
|
Brooks: Hee Hee Hee Hee
|
Little Girl: (Laughs)
|
Killa Mike: You are now witnessing the collaborative effort of Buford Highway's finest; Brooks Buford. My main man, Warner Robbins own Danny Boone. And me, I'm Killa kill from Atlasville, better known as Killa Mike. Ha ha. This's how we bring it. Heard?
|
I'm wild up in school, act a fool
|
it's over, I hate you Brooks, you suck. Cool
|
my DJs name Detail he's neat
|
your ass get beat all down the street
|
if you can't move to this then you ain't got feet
|
Ain't nobody that can pull it the way that I be bringin' it raw
|
stingin' it, singin' and rippin' your jaw
|
and bustin' rhymes all of the time follow the leader
|
be the MC if you ever try to get with the B-double O-N-E, uh
|
You talk about it, say what
|
the way we live it, yeah
|
you walk around it, say what
|
'cause Rehab give it, yeah
|
we're in the sky, say what
|
a mile high, yeah
|
flying the winds like a falcon and you ain't that fly
|
don't sing it bring it, don't front it run it
|
and don't be scared this is just what you wanted
|
and you have all woke up the giant
|
his name is Truth and he's crushin' all your lyin'
|
Yeah, I'm rollin' through the halls, one word...balls
|
I'm handling business, power lunches, conference calls
|
pulled up on the go-ped, sittin' on chrome three's
|
I smell disease, knockin' out MCs
|
my rhymes be jumpin' out bushes and trees
|
Hey, how in the hell are you doing out there in radio land?
|
this is Danny Boone many moons ago I started rippin' the microphone
|
and been doin' it ever since makin' mince meat of MCs that can't get with this
|
don't cross fence
|
You talk about it, say what
|
the way we live it, yeah
|
you walk around it, say what
|
'cause Rehab give it, yeah
|
we're in the sky, say what
|
a mile high, yeah
|
flying the winds like a falcon and you ain't that fly
|
don't sing it bring it, don't front it run it
|
and don't be scared this is just what you wanted
|
and you have all woke up the giant
|
his name is Truth and he's crushin' all your lyin'
|
One two, one two...it's murder
|
I'm thirteen, smokin' green
|
in a stolen Chevelle with the gangsta lean
|
dippin through the swas, cook jelly beans
|
crunk enough to be on methanphedemines
|
got a girl, sixteen, I'm court teens
|
so fresh so clean in my creased jeans
|
silk shirt, three finger ring gleeming
|
with a fifth of Jim Beam, I'm an A-town king
|
Hey, you just a hop, skip and a jump
|
from gettin' dropped in a d'emptsy dumpster
|
punk, you can not even handle the truth
|
so I bring it to you 'cause I know you have nothing to bring at me
|
I, I, I...
|
You talk about it, say what
|
the way we live it, yeah
|
you walk around it, say what
|
'cause Rehab give it, yeah
|
we're in the sky, say what
|
a mile high, yeah
|
flying the winds like a falcon and you ain't that fly
|
don't sing it bring it, don't front it run it
|
and don't be scared this is just what you wanted
|
and you have all woke up the giant
|
his name is Truth and he's crushin' all your lyin'
|
You talk about it, say what
|
the way we live it, yeah
|
you walk around it, say what
|
'cause Rehab give it, yeah
|
we're in the sky, say what
|
a mile high, yeah
|
flying the winds like a falcon and you ain't that fly
|
don't sing it bring it, don't front it run it
|
and don't be scared this is just what you wanted
|
and you have all woke up the giant
|
his name is Truth and he's crushin' all your lyin'
|
Little Girl: All good. Goodbye.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sleeping Giant
|
Rehab |