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Masta Ace DA : Acknowledge (Disposable Arts)
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Masta Ace
Masta Ace
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Pay homage, respect Yeah, one-two Acknowledge the rep I don't know what you cats was thinking Pay homage, respect Must've been crazy Acknowledge the rep To step up on stage, at CMJ, mention my name I hear these cats, but I ain't listenin' A little faint dissin', a little scratch, a little paint missin' But I still gleam and glisten, hot like a stream of piss and I'm about to have your whole team wishin' That you never got this shit started You about to be dearly departed, you gotta be nearly retarded To let me hear my name mentioned, tryna gain attention Now I'm runnin' through this game lynchin' And I heard a few cats tryna take shots on the low These XFL rappers tryna fuck with a real pro One thing; who named y'all the High and the Mighty? To me, y'all just sound like a couple of high whities You had to be on mad coke and ecstasy To think for a second, you could stand next to me Look, don't ever again mention my name in your freestyles Or I'll cut off your transmission faster than Lee Myles And I heard your album, this must be somethin' you're new at 'Cause I'd rather hear a Lil Wayne-Lil Zane duet My cellphone stay ringin' like a slap in the ear So I hope y'all don't plan on making rap a career 'Cause ever since Heav' was in Vernon, I been burnin' Next year, y'all be up in Rawkus, internin' And I should've let it known what your government names are To make sure you Take It Personal like Gang Starr, motherfuckers I got one lyric, pointed at your head for start Another one, is pointed at your weak ass heart And that go for any other so-called rap cats, in the game (pay homage, respect) Acknowledge the rep Another fake jack I slay with my spectac' rap display And believe me, I ain't forget about him, naw Pay homage, respect Nope, acknowledge the rep Just you wait Acknowledge the rep (yo) Yeah, I heard of the Boogieman when I was a youth, scary Then I found out that he was as fake as a tooth-fairy Since my last mission, this nigga's been ass-kissin' I took a minute, I gave your single a fast listen Tell me this, with no pot to piss in, how you dissin'? Your group home's about to be reporting you missin' And I don't know what was worse, the track or the verse I'ma get to your producer, but I'm smacking you first See I couldn't even find one nigga that heard of you I did find a few cats that want to murder you But I told 'em, "Chill," I let 'em know you was my son And I promise I keep paying support 'til you're 21 Consider me the clothes on your back and a warm meal Who knows, this might just get you a deal And the day that your album go on sale for the first hour Just remember, like Nas nigga, I Gave You Power I figured I give ya some help, 'cause you need lots I make your producer change his name to Speed Nottz Tell him I say fuck him for doin' the tracks Matter of fact, fuck Fat Beats, for doin' the wax I'ma diss you via e-mail and then through a fax I'ma diss you by two-way, I ain't gon' never relax I'ma diss you over fast, slow track or no track If your shit wasn't so wack, I'd diss you to your track You that little fish that I catch and I throw back And by the way, give 50 Cent his flow back You that cat in the club that get hit with a bottle Fuckin' with me, you better off tryin' to hit lotto And don't answer back, this is hard shit to follow And you can't spit nigga, so you obviously must swallow Motherfucker Pay homage, respect I got one lyric, pointed at your head for start (yeah) Another one, is pointed at your weak ass heart Boogieman, Boogieman, what's wrong? I figured out everybody you know better (pay homage, respect) Made you sound like a fan and everything You know you was dancing and singing my shit back in the day Tryna front on me You should know the student can't fuck with the teacher (Acknowledge the rep) I tell you what, after the rap beef shit dry off for you And all this hype I gave you wear off Come see me, I'll make you my hype man And work on some steps, 'cause I'ma make you my dancer too And um, far as battling goes C'mon man, I can't earn no stripes battling you Tell you what, you can get at me after you sell like one record And I'll break that ass, nigga Don't ever front on me, nigga
Writer(s): Duval A. Clear, Thomas Raic Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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