Paroles Ya losin Bishop Lamont

Ya losin

Featuring RYU & Gravity Christ

Now in the morning Mike talking, I’m Richie Ramirez
Nice talking, it’s a murder when I make an appearance
Skywalker light, saber rhymes
Say goodnight Taladega track, rapper recites scigga
Poltergeist, head spinner
Great rapper, even better swimmer
Gotta be this industry, it’s shark week, what’s for dinner?
See my fin up, you know I’m ‘bout to eat with the condiments
So much blood on the beach, the paramedics are vomiting
Supreme architect, sick as a porn set
I feel so alone, my competition isn’t born yet
Sworn to the code, I follow til I’m finito
These hoes wanna swallow my sword like it’s a freakshow
He’s pretty good, I could beat him in my sleep though
I learned to play the game, you still need a fuckin’ cheat code
So please don’t try to play me this week blow
You never gonna make it like Shaq shootin’ a freak yo

It’s been a problem, these rappers carrots is getting boiled
My clique is sick of you freshmans, your milk is spoiled
I’m ‘bout to break take up your space and your real estate
Kick you out your own shit, smash up your dinner plates
I’m probly tippin’ with my visions from the third eye
See your aura before a conversation, I’m so high
Enough to quantum leap the time space continuum
And hypnotize tomorrow with the motion of my pendulum
My spine is lacrossin’, it’s lost in disguises
Ballet of appalls, brainwashed of his desires
I’m a phantom, many cars, you’d better step with some caution
Every round leads to brain cell lost and sheer exhaustion
I’m Gravity Christ, competition unseen
Bishop pointed out Vic and seen a fucked up team
In a blink I moved a whoop, they had a fucked up queen
Like a scene from a movie with a fucked up theme

Nah, we don’t believe in competition
Just more volunteers for the fuckin’ mortician
See, we the victors bitch and you’re the victims
My gun brrrrr the stick, I’m ha ha-ha, stick ‘em
See we the real deal, we really killed bin Laden
Obama called us when that nigga got a problem
Nigga we the champs, y’all fools ain’t ballin’

Okay, it’s time to get down
Run up, rob you fools, I want my money right now
Like Jay Z Wentworth, like old Jackal Lambeezer
Go ahead, call for backup, them niggas is desert
I’m a wizard bitch, you can’t defeat me
Workaholic alcoholic, just as seen on TV
So brolic anabolics, mingle steroids on my salad
Up and down in the world, whole chest get blow
I drink muscle milk and sniff inno explode
Turn up vengeance on you niggas, give you lumps and stiches
You stupid sons of bitches
My sick styles relentless
My rhyme skills is endless
You fucked up tremendous
And a wife beater, I’ll flip over your 2 seater
Maybe I should smoke you with my 9 mm
I told you niggas nice and smooth
We run this here, ain’t shit you can do
Yo expendables kill your own, that’s cruel
The techniques is hazardous, rising like Lazarus
Me the constant nigga like Jesus of that Nazareth
Scripture, over shadowy clipture
No Instagram, I can paint the picture
Literature, banana clips I spit to cheer
We major emcees, you men mature