Bumpy Knuckles - Lyrics
- Ersteller Fotee36
- Erstellt am
Bumpy Knuckles - Tell'em I'm Here
Somebody tell them mother****ers I'm here!
[Verse 1]
Emcees and rappers, what's up, I hope it's good
For them street niggas breakin them bricks, in the hood
I write, maybe sheddin some light
My experience in hip hop, was struggle and fight
All I ever wanted, was a chance to rock the mic, like you do
Control every crowd in the world, like voodoo
The underground hardcore scene, it's my flaw
I snatch alotta money from that, so once more
I step, where the niggas that rep, get checks
You touch mine, here go my check
It's back to underground clubs, with fights at the door
Niggas gettin one deal in six months they poor
I separate emcees from rappers, standin on stage with two clappers
Cock back, beef at my house, I stop that
I dare any toller Typ standin in here with half a heart
To address me, I rip you apart, Tell 'em I'm Here!
CHORUS:
Tell 'em the one that blasts first every time it's on
Tell 'em, I put the word back in word is bond
Tell 'em, I stomp rappers to the beat, shut 'em down with no fear
Somebody tell them mother****ers I'm here!
[Verse 2]
Who got the ill rep, lyrical style like Bumpy Knucks
Outta respect none of you bitch ass niggas your shit sucks
I'm the emperor, you niggas is hoes with gold plaques
Lotta stick ups in town, Freddie Foxxx is back
Bumpy Knuckles I, take out your heart with one look
Frying niggas like "Yang Kang Cook" you're all shook
Spittin hella hot lyrics, that infiltrate tracks
Like spirit, real niggas wild when they hear it
My heart bleeds raw hip hop, I got no gauze
Sometimes the beats kicks so hard, I cock them fours
And I can feel it, all up in my veins, keep it noted
I'm the long term maintain, Tell 'em I'm Here!
CHORUS
[Verse 3]
I do it special for them thug niggas holdin the block
They need a toller Typ on wax that can follow
To give 'em that real shit to swallow
I don't respect a man under no man
You frontin like you holdin all the cards up in your hand
When emcees come in, emcees go
I'm one of the few emcees left, with emcee flow
So while I spit repetitious like techs
Make your bitch say my style is delicious like sex
Undetectable rhyme, it's complex
Check the three X's that I earned from
Bustin my sigs from New York to Texas
Makin niggas take L's like Lexus, tattoed vibes I protect this
Find a mic mechanic, cuz I'm bout to wreck this
Villainous, I'm laughin while I'm killin this
Never break a sweat because my groove be the chillinest
Thug niggas throw your hands up if you feelin this, Tell 'em I'm Here!
CHORUS
Somebody tell them mother****ers I'm here!
[Verse 1]
Emcees and rappers, what's up, I hope it's good
For them street niggas breakin them bricks, in the hood
I write, maybe sheddin some light
My experience in hip hop, was struggle and fight
All I ever wanted, was a chance to rock the mic, like you do
Control every crowd in the world, like voodoo
The underground hardcore scene, it's my flaw
I snatch alotta money from that, so once more
I step, where the niggas that rep, get checks
You touch mine, here go my check
It's back to underground clubs, with fights at the door
Niggas gettin one deal in six months they poor
I separate emcees from rappers, standin on stage with two clappers
Cock back, beef at my house, I stop that
I dare any toller Typ standin in here with half a heart
To address me, I rip you apart, Tell 'em I'm Here!
CHORUS:
Tell 'em the one that blasts first every time it's on
Tell 'em, I put the word back in word is bond
Tell 'em, I stomp rappers to the beat, shut 'em down with no fear
Somebody tell them mother****ers I'm here!
[Verse 2]
Who got the ill rep, lyrical style like Bumpy Knucks
Outta respect none of you bitch ass niggas your shit sucks
I'm the emperor, you niggas is hoes with gold plaques
Lotta stick ups in town, Freddie Foxxx is back
Bumpy Knuckles I, take out your heart with one look
Frying niggas like "Yang Kang Cook" you're all shook
Spittin hella hot lyrics, that infiltrate tracks
Like spirit, real niggas wild when they hear it
My heart bleeds raw hip hop, I got no gauze
Sometimes the beats kicks so hard, I cock them fours
And I can feel it, all up in my veins, keep it noted
I'm the long term maintain, Tell 'em I'm Here!
CHORUS
[Verse 3]
I do it special for them thug niggas holdin the block
They need a toller Typ on wax that can follow
To give 'em that real shit to swallow
I don't respect a man under no man
You frontin like you holdin all the cards up in your hand
When emcees come in, emcees go
I'm one of the few emcees left, with emcee flow
So while I spit repetitious like techs
Make your bitch say my style is delicious like sex
Undetectable rhyme, it's complex
Check the three X's that I earned from
Bustin my sigs from New York to Texas
Makin niggas take L's like Lexus, tattoed vibes I protect this
Find a mic mechanic, cuz I'm bout to wreck this
Villainous, I'm laughin while I'm killin this
Never break a sweat because my groove be the chillinest
Thug niggas throw your hands up if you feelin this, Tell 'em I'm Here!
CHORUS
Bumpy Knuckles - Stock in the Game
[Freddie Foxxx]
Yeah, uh-huh, you ready?
It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, we tear this motha****er down!
Welcome to the underground where hardcore niggas are found
We're beatin niggas down, make you world-reknown
Where street beef set off once, never forgiven
Where real niggas never give up, we fugitivin
That's how we be livin, where niggas vibe on the raw shit
Come out, your face ****ed up and get your jaw split
toller Typ, we pick your teeth up and put em on a string like bones
And send your punk ass home alone
I got stock in this microphone you innuendos
I get you beat the **** up and played like Nintendo
Maybe smoke like the hydro endo, you niggas is hookers
I hit you wit the four pound tuckers
Have you ever seen a rap stampede?
Well bring em underground, and I'll run em down
You know my reputation, my voice over disco beats is violation
New York walk, New York talk
And when I blow you niggas dime, I use my own chalk
So watch what the **** you say and what you do
For real, niggas bring it to you and your whole crew
Bring in baby, you ready?
[Chorus]
I got stock in this game
Got a bad reputation for bringin the glock to the game
You know my name
So if you ever come across me wrong
Just remember the words to this song
I be hearin mad MC's, I study your rhymes
And I noticed that you niggas is just wastin time
I don't take it to wack niggas, they self-destruct
I take it to nice niggas and **** THEM UP!
So the fact that you be shinin makes it even better for me
That just leaves more cheddar for me
I keep it blacker than Cadillacs in '69
Total eclispe your record and stole your shine
Sixteen bars of homemade moonshine rhyme
And I still had you motha****ers payin me mine
Wassup, watch me snatch a hundred grand on you niggas
No tax while you loudmouth braggin-ass niggas fake jacks
Yeah I'm nice wit my motha****in hands
And I bust my heats, Freddie Foxxx celebrity box out the beats
My flow is so cold
Start a rainy day snowin, my voice fertilize your thoughts to start growin
It's Bumpy Knuckles and raw niggas incorporated
The real niggas love it, the fake niggas hate it
You motha****ers ready for this? Check it out
Chorus 2x
I go one two three four five, I make it live
Simple-ass shit like that be soundin wack
But when I spit the lyrical terror that makes niggas hide they jewels
Wild niggas start cockin they tools
I got my ethics from the older school, if you wack then I spit it
Something to steal, I come get it
If Freddie Foxxx want beef, niggas ain't wit it
Some niggas wanna try my style but can't fit it
I be hearin niggas that sound like me
But ain't never ever really put it down like me
Plus them niggas ain't really underground like me
Street reputation, love town-to-town like me
You bitch-ass motha****ers I squared off in the mainstream
World, actin like a motha****in girls
I wet you like a jheri curl and you'll explode like uranium
The only thing you'll have to fall back on is your cranium
You soft niggas could never be iller
Than the holemaker, holefiller
Bumpy Knucks keep it realer, the bloodspiller
Don't **** wit a motha****in killer, TURN IT UP!
Chorus 2x
*on second time, last line is "THEN ALL YOU MOTHA****ERS'LL BE GONE"*
[Freddie Foxxx]
Yeah, uh-huh, you ready?
It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, we tear this motha****er down!
Welcome to the underground where hardcore niggas are found
We're beatin niggas down, make you world-reknown
Where street beef set off once, never forgiven
Where real niggas never give up, we fugitivin
That's how we be livin, where niggas vibe on the raw shit
Come out, your face ****ed up and get your jaw split
toller Typ, we pick your teeth up and put em on a string like bones
And send your punk ass home alone
I got stock in this microphone you innuendos
I get you beat the **** up and played like Nintendo
Maybe smoke like the hydro endo, you niggas is hookers
I hit you wit the four pound tuckers
Have you ever seen a rap stampede?
Well bring em underground, and I'll run em down
You know my reputation, my voice over disco beats is violation
New York walk, New York talk
And when I blow you niggas dime, I use my own chalk
So watch what the **** you say and what you do
For real, niggas bring it to you and your whole crew
Bring in baby, you ready?
[Chorus]
I got stock in this game
Got a bad reputation for bringin the glock to the game
You know my name
So if you ever come across me wrong
Just remember the words to this song
I be hearin mad MC's, I study your rhymes
And I noticed that you niggas is just wastin time
I don't take it to wack niggas, they self-destruct
I take it to nice niggas and **** THEM UP!
So the fact that you be shinin makes it even better for me
That just leaves more cheddar for me
I keep it blacker than Cadillacs in '69
Total eclispe your record and stole your shine
Sixteen bars of homemade moonshine rhyme
And I still had you motha****ers payin me mine
Wassup, watch me snatch a hundred grand on you niggas
No tax while you loudmouth braggin-ass niggas fake jacks
Yeah I'm nice wit my motha****in hands
And I bust my heats, Freddie Foxxx celebrity box out the beats
My flow is so cold
Start a rainy day snowin, my voice fertilize your thoughts to start growin
It's Bumpy Knuckles and raw niggas incorporated
The real niggas love it, the fake niggas hate it
You motha****ers ready for this? Check it out
Chorus 2x
I go one two three four five, I make it live
Simple-ass shit like that be soundin wack
But when I spit the lyrical terror that makes niggas hide they jewels
Wild niggas start cockin they tools
I got my ethics from the older school, if you wack then I spit it
Something to steal, I come get it
If Freddie Foxxx want beef, niggas ain't wit it
Some niggas wanna try my style but can't fit it
I be hearin niggas that sound like me
But ain't never ever really put it down like me
Plus them niggas ain't really underground like me
Street reputation, love town-to-town like me
You bitch-ass motha****ers I squared off in the mainstream
World, actin like a motha****in girls
I wet you like a jheri curl and you'll explode like uranium
The only thing you'll have to fall back on is your cranium
You soft niggas could never be iller
Than the holemaker, holefiller
Bumpy Knucks keep it realer, the bloodspiller
Don't **** wit a motha****in killer, TURN IT UP!
Chorus 2x
*on second time, last line is "THEN ALL YOU MOTHA****ERS'LL BE GONE"*
Bumpy Knuckles - The Lah
Primo! Haaaaah
Come on, hah!
[ Verse One ]
Somebody better call security it's 'bout to be on
I'm in the streets, midnight, 'bout to bust 'til dawn
Niggas are dead wrong, if they think I'm soft in my song
You wanna die? Hah, I can help your coffin me on
I'm the reason that some rap niggas, may spit a name
I'm the reason that some niggas, still in the game
I'm the reason that rock died, some proclaim
rich underground street toller Typ, Bumpy came
They wonderin', how the hell he just won't stop and
They wonderin', how this toller Typ stays so hot
Well it's a combination of five things I live by
I don't speak to none of these bitch-ass niggas, just give eye
Always aim for the sky, unless I'm aiming at an A&R from the majors
then I aim for the eye, and you never seen me cry
These emotional-ass industry rap mother****ers,
toller Typ just push double Y
And I always spit fly, and never be afraid
'Cause Bumpy ain't leaving, 'til Bumpy get paid
You niggas is like little AIDS,
infecting the sound that the real niggas started
So we keep it underground, yeah
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
The Lah, lah, lah
Got me clouded brains in motion
The Lah, lah, lah
Got me causing mad commotion
The Lah, lah, lah
Hit me like a locomotion (Feel me)
The Lah, lah, lah
Smoking, smoking, smoking
[ Verse Two ]
Niggas know I ain't play around when it comes to the rhyme to the sound
From the sky to the ground, I gun your ass down, like I'm aged rap round
I got a little game for the kiddies and I call it "Ain't that clown!"
It's Bumpy Knux, how that inquits on Al Green
Gonna make Allen Iverson stick with his team
Basketball where's your dream, so live ya other life
Don't go broke try to flow, be you ain't that nice
What's with these basketball niggas, I'm screamin' double drittle
How you nine foot tall, and rhymin' just a little?
I police the underground, and I'm thug upon it
Got 'em crowling with that speak, get your mom ?
By reverend glock, niggas got they' game all twisted
It's a lot of niggas I'ma bring it too and it's listed
I hope he try to stand up and show me you lie
That makes my dick hard, and I get all sweaty inside
'Cause I know this little toller Typ wanna prove he ain't a sucker
But he ****ing with a bad mother****er, it's Bumpy Knux
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
[ Verse Three ]
The magazines; I like to meet my reviewer
Take his ass to the sewer, and show him what it's like
try to come up on this mic, how to struggle, how to fight
It's like tryin' to fight an ass on a Chinese woman
In the dark, black night I got the double-Tech
If I wasn't in the cigarette-smoke,
and skinny white women that play my record
I been +Hot+ since +97+, way before that
Know I come back, and niggas still bitching
You can't even snatch a chain no more, niggas snitching
Alot of niggas is just pots in the kitchen like congresman Rangle
Missed the mo' changle with ****ed up angles
The blacks start suffer while the white start spangle
Banner and we don't play on MTV
The ****ing record company is all up on the MP3
And the bootleg factory, I got niggas saying "Bumpy too black for me"
It's the truth toller Typ, I see, but you blinded by glitter
And you got a little cheddar what made you pussy gain better
While you need mic-nice lessons nursery rhyming
When all a toller Typ want is a car and a hurtmean diamond
He'll do anything for anybody
And suck a dick like he MC Lewinsky
I'm the toller Typ that you can't see, don't ever get it ****ed up
All you sucka ass niggas with they bump knucked up
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
Primo! Haaaaah
Come on, hah!
[ Verse One ]
Somebody better call security it's 'bout to be on
I'm in the streets, midnight, 'bout to bust 'til dawn
Niggas are dead wrong, if they think I'm soft in my song
You wanna die? Hah, I can help your coffin me on
I'm the reason that some rap niggas, may spit a name
I'm the reason that some niggas, still in the game
I'm the reason that rock died, some proclaim
rich underground street toller Typ, Bumpy came
They wonderin', how the hell he just won't stop and
They wonderin', how this toller Typ stays so hot
Well it's a combination of five things I live by
I don't speak to none of these bitch-ass niggas, just give eye
Always aim for the sky, unless I'm aiming at an A&R from the majors
then I aim for the eye, and you never seen me cry
These emotional-ass industry rap mother****ers,
toller Typ just push double Y
And I always spit fly, and never be afraid
'Cause Bumpy ain't leaving, 'til Bumpy get paid
You niggas is like little AIDS,
infecting the sound that the real niggas started
So we keep it underground, yeah
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
The Lah, lah, lah
Got me clouded brains in motion
The Lah, lah, lah
Got me causing mad commotion
The Lah, lah, lah
Hit me like a locomotion (Feel me)
The Lah, lah, lah
Smoking, smoking, smoking
[ Verse Two ]
Niggas know I ain't play around when it comes to the rhyme to the sound
From the sky to the ground, I gun your ass down, like I'm aged rap round
I got a little game for the kiddies and I call it "Ain't that clown!"
It's Bumpy Knux, how that inquits on Al Green
Gonna make Allen Iverson stick with his team
Basketball where's your dream, so live ya other life
Don't go broke try to flow, be you ain't that nice
What's with these basketball niggas, I'm screamin' double drittle
How you nine foot tall, and rhymin' just a little?
I police the underground, and I'm thug upon it
Got 'em crowling with that speak, get your mom ?
By reverend glock, niggas got they' game all twisted
It's a lot of niggas I'ma bring it too and it's listed
I hope he try to stand up and show me you lie
That makes my dick hard, and I get all sweaty inside
'Cause I know this little toller Typ wanna prove he ain't a sucker
But he ****ing with a bad mother****er, it's Bumpy Knux
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
[ Verse Three ]
The magazines; I like to meet my reviewer
Take his ass to the sewer, and show him what it's like
try to come up on this mic, how to struggle, how to fight
It's like tryin' to fight an ass on a Chinese woman
In the dark, black night I got the double-Tech
If I wasn't in the cigarette-smoke,
and skinny white women that play my record
I been +Hot+ since +97+, way before that
Know I come back, and niggas still bitching
You can't even snatch a chain no more, niggas snitching
Alot of niggas is just pots in the kitchen like congresman Rangle
Missed the mo' changle with ****ed up angles
The blacks start suffer while the white start spangle
Banner and we don't play on MTV
The ****ing record company is all up on the MP3
And the bootleg factory, I got niggas saying "Bumpy too black for me"
It's the truth toller Typ, I see, but you blinded by glitter
And you got a little cheddar what made you pussy gain better
While you need mic-nice lessons nursery rhyming
When all a toller Typ want is a car and a hurtmean diamond
He'll do anything for anybody
And suck a dick like he MC Lewinsky
I'm the toller Typ that you can't see, don't ever get it ****ed up
All you sucka ass niggas with they bump knucked up
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
Bumpy Knuckles - R.N.S.
"It's time for this real toller Typ shit.."
"Bumpy Knucks.."
"Ha, hah-hah"
"Niggaz can't see I.."
"Fr-Fre-Fre, Freddie Foxxx with the twin millis" -> O.C.
"Ha, hah-hah"
"Bu-Bu, Buh-Bu, Bu, Bumpy Knucks.."
"Niggas can't see I.."
"It's time for this real toller Typ shit.."
[Freddie Foxxx]
When I was small I made pause tapes for "Super Sperm"
Rappin in high school, drinkin forties, smokin sherm
Listen to Cold Crush and Grandmaster Caz spittin
Gettin somethin in that niggaz ain't now gettin; feel me
Remember everybody wanted to be "Peace, God, Divine"
Real niggaz kept they attributes, right through '99
Peace to the god Taheem, watching over me
White chariots and horses, get me over rough courses
While I silence those voices that doubted my ability
to rip, through these young ass niggaz
When I walk into the Lyricist Lounge, lyricists lounge
cause niggaz know that Bumpy Knucks'll tear this mutha down
Cause the rawest most illest shit, make up my sound
That's why I stay gettin money, like them niggaz uptown
I'm in your face - toller Typ whassup now
**** all that peacemakin bullshit
I heard you spit you like to pull shit
That's all bullshit, you keep your nine on some full shit
You say you bust it, that's BULLSHIT!
You know the illest MC that ever did it
The rawest toller Typ that ever chewed up rhymes and spit it
In the new millenium cities, watch what I do
I'm bout to save hip-hop like Ghost did the Wu
Chorus: Freddie Foxxx (repeat 2X)
For the DJ's, the rappers, the writers, the breakers
The movers, the shakers, the beat, the makers
What's stronger than hip-hop niggaz they can't take us
if we deal with the real, and shut down the fakers
[Freddie Foxxx]
I'm proud to be a black man in my existence, so **** the Klan
I ain't blinded by your jewels and your million dollar checks
I'm always ready for whatever's next
My road in life ain't easy cause I'm complex
You know the real, toller Typ turnin these fake hard niggaz to grasshoppers
cause f'real here comes the realest, when I cock the manstoppers
I remember talkin to Big Poppa; he said "Foxxx, you the illest,"
(uhh) I make the realest toller Typ feel it
Got a little mob of niggaz I send to rob niggaz
Take all that fly jewelry, and give it to my moms
I keep the industry up in arms like Zack La Roche
cause they hate to see me comin, with this too black approach
Through the hardest time in hip-hop, I stayed afloat
So let me give the media some fly shit to quote
I'ma always be a toller Typ, lookin through your eyes
So nothin that you do to me should come as no surprise
I continue bein raw dog, puttin in work
I drown a bitch and get away, like my name was Captain Kirk
Mother****ers wanna hear it raw, Bumpy make it hurt
Step on stage, rip the whole shit down and merc'
Chorus
[Freddie Foxxx]
What ****ed you up is that I'm so nice and don't rehearse
On any record I'm the king of the third verse
It's +Strictly Business+, if it's +Personal+ I let you know
I hold your heart until the Lord tell me let you go
Don't need advice from no corny ass A&R that never filled a milk crate
with breakbeats, I keep it raw toller Typ straight street
To my comrades in L.A, L.A., L.A.
I still got the bulletproof - Pelle, Pelle, Pelle
Keep the music underground as I reiterate twice
Tell niggaz to they face, I thought you wasn't nice
Kick my ass? Nah, not likely; out mic me?
Not likely, stay on the sidelines like Spike Lee
Niggas know Bumpy like to flow all out
Microphone, gun in hands toller Typ, go all out
No exceptions to females I ride 'em giddyup
How bad I wanna **** Brat, since she pushed them titties up
It's the underground sound that designs the street
Freddie Foxxx designed the rhyme, Premier designed the beat
Chorus
[scratches by DJ Premier]
"Bumpy Knucks.."
"Niggaz can't see I.."
"Fr-Fre-Fre, Freddie Foxxx with the twin millis" -> O.C.
"Bu-Bu, Buh-Bu, Bu, Bumpy Knucks.."
"It's time for this real toller Typ shit.."
"It's time for this real toller Typ shit.."
"Bumpy Knucks.."
"Ha, hah-hah"
"Niggaz can't see I.."
"Fr-Fre-Fre, Freddie Foxxx with the twin millis" -> O.C.
"Ha, hah-hah"
"Bu-Bu, Buh-Bu, Bu, Bumpy Knucks.."
"Niggas can't see I.."
"It's time for this real toller Typ shit.."
[Freddie Foxxx]
When I was small I made pause tapes for "Super Sperm"
Rappin in high school, drinkin forties, smokin sherm
Listen to Cold Crush and Grandmaster Caz spittin
Gettin somethin in that niggaz ain't now gettin; feel me
Remember everybody wanted to be "Peace, God, Divine"
Real niggaz kept they attributes, right through '99
Peace to the god Taheem, watching over me
White chariots and horses, get me over rough courses
While I silence those voices that doubted my ability
to rip, through these young ass niggaz
When I walk into the Lyricist Lounge, lyricists lounge
cause niggaz know that Bumpy Knucks'll tear this mutha down
Cause the rawest most illest shit, make up my sound
That's why I stay gettin money, like them niggaz uptown
I'm in your face - toller Typ whassup now
**** all that peacemakin bullshit
I heard you spit you like to pull shit
That's all bullshit, you keep your nine on some full shit
You say you bust it, that's BULLSHIT!
You know the illest MC that ever did it
The rawest toller Typ that ever chewed up rhymes and spit it
In the new millenium cities, watch what I do
I'm bout to save hip-hop like Ghost did the Wu
Chorus: Freddie Foxxx (repeat 2X)
For the DJ's, the rappers, the writers, the breakers
The movers, the shakers, the beat, the makers
What's stronger than hip-hop niggaz they can't take us
if we deal with the real, and shut down the fakers
[Freddie Foxxx]
I'm proud to be a black man in my existence, so **** the Klan
I ain't blinded by your jewels and your million dollar checks
I'm always ready for whatever's next
My road in life ain't easy cause I'm complex
You know the real, toller Typ turnin these fake hard niggaz to grasshoppers
cause f'real here comes the realest, when I cock the manstoppers
I remember talkin to Big Poppa; he said "Foxxx, you the illest,"
(uhh) I make the realest toller Typ feel it
Got a little mob of niggaz I send to rob niggaz
Take all that fly jewelry, and give it to my moms
I keep the industry up in arms like Zack La Roche
cause they hate to see me comin, with this too black approach
Through the hardest time in hip-hop, I stayed afloat
So let me give the media some fly shit to quote
I'ma always be a toller Typ, lookin through your eyes
So nothin that you do to me should come as no surprise
I continue bein raw dog, puttin in work
I drown a bitch and get away, like my name was Captain Kirk
Mother****ers wanna hear it raw, Bumpy make it hurt
Step on stage, rip the whole shit down and merc'
Chorus
[Freddie Foxxx]
What ****ed you up is that I'm so nice and don't rehearse
On any record I'm the king of the third verse
It's +Strictly Business+, if it's +Personal+ I let you know
I hold your heart until the Lord tell me let you go
Don't need advice from no corny ass A&R that never filled a milk crate
with breakbeats, I keep it raw toller Typ straight street
To my comrades in L.A, L.A., L.A.
I still got the bulletproof - Pelle, Pelle, Pelle
Keep the music underground as I reiterate twice
Tell niggaz to they face, I thought you wasn't nice
Kick my ass? Nah, not likely; out mic me?
Not likely, stay on the sidelines like Spike Lee
Niggas know Bumpy like to flow all out
Microphone, gun in hands toller Typ, go all out
No exceptions to females I ride 'em giddyup
How bad I wanna **** Brat, since she pushed them titties up
It's the underground sound that designs the street
Freddie Foxxx designed the rhyme, Premier designed the beat
Chorus
[scratches by DJ Premier]
"Bumpy Knucks.."
"Niggaz can't see I.."
"Fr-Fre-Fre, Freddie Foxxx with the twin millis" -> O.C.
"Bu-Bu, Buh-Bu, Bu, Bumpy Knucks.."
"It's time for this real toller Typ shit.."
Bumpy Knuckles - Part of my Life
[Verse One]
I be all in you like you disrespected space in my lyric zone
I'm like a pit, with a leg in his mouth, I bring it home
Bumpy ripping everything known, block every blow zone
I make you sit your ho ass down, turn off your microphone
Cause after me its un-rippable
I slap you in your mouth, your drinks'll be unsippable
I got miles of styles, you must be out your mother****in brain
To think I'm not the nicest in the game
Disconnected from your mainframe, punched cocked
Twirl your nose up Murray the cop, to the beat down you don't stop
When Fox and Bumpy keep it hot
End the whole beef with just one shot, niggaz I fear not
This piece of steel with the screen on top
Projects uncut chyna white dope
Leave a freeze in a toller Typ throat
I fight for this like the right to vote
The poison I spit, they'll never be an antecdote
You niggaz thought I put my mic down
Cause the industry's scared cause I put my fight down
Before I do that, I sell it out the trunk and make a mill
Now thats a real rap toller Typ deal
In 99 I'm droppin niggaz like flies
**** flowin, I'm turning niggaz into Jesse Owens
Cock the four pound, keep it going, I'm in your dresser room layin
You bitch ass niggaz just start prayin baby
Chorus:
Rhymin is a part of my life
I'ma die with rhymin kids and a rhymin wife
I don't let nobody judge me that don't know how to do what I do
So if you don't like it then **** you!
*repeat*
[Verse One]
I watch niggaz get hyped up with one single and get gassed
Then fall like a bad pass
Niggaz run outta New York, to live in other places
Hopin somebody remember old rap faces
**** that, I'ma five borough thorough MC
Where I go, New York goes, keepin New York flows
Niggaz be switchin cause they not sure
Your style is played out soft shit like Valure
In red and black living rooms when the system booms
He's a nice little diss to whomever whom
Come against me and I give you one of three picks:
Get shot, get stuck up, get your ass kicked
Bring your whole unit, and I be lyrically gunning em
Cause Freddie Foxxx be the illest thing since Run and em
I be running through you like a Hummer, you don't want none o'
So hot I turn December 25 into summer
I scrutinize niggaz and bring em down to size
My lyrical body slam will leave you paralized
**** what you memorize, I take you out of drive
And leave you neutralized and black in both your eyes
My rise is your demise, shut down your enterprise
Fox and Primo, we stay close like thighs
Bumpy got nine lives, like a cat
With a full gat, keep it underground **** that!
Chorus
[Verse Three]
For every verse I ever spit, for every mic I ever rip
I still got a full clip of unstoppable shit
You mean to tell me mother****ers never knew
That I be bustin niggaz in the head with beer bottles like Guru
Check the mic one, two make sure its on
When I bring it to your headquarters, word is bond
Heads up, eyes and ears open
I got you hopin
That you could catch rec like me
You got a better chance at kickin down a tree
With no legs, doing a handstand on two eggs
Mother****er, I got lyrical instinct, **** what you write
I'm The Source like magazine, on the cover with the Ruger 16
I ain't scared to diss a MC, but ask him if he scared to diss me
I bet he won't disagree, he'll probaly start sayin his throat
hurt, his mom's is sick with a bad knee
Or start screamin he's about dough
He's just a faggot with a whack flow
Don't walk up on me talkin freestyles and off the top of the dome
I beat you down and send your ass home
I'm on my own time, I write my own rhymes
You wanna be the nominee? you brave now?
I carve my rhyme in your back and bury you face down
Just remember toller Typ:
I'm Freddie the Foxxx I break his back and buck em buck em down
Chorus
[Verse One]
I be all in you like you disrespected space in my lyric zone
I'm like a pit, with a leg in his mouth, I bring it home
Bumpy ripping everything known, block every blow zone
I make you sit your ho ass down, turn off your microphone
Cause after me its un-rippable
I slap you in your mouth, your drinks'll be unsippable
I got miles of styles, you must be out your mother****in brain
To think I'm not the nicest in the game
Disconnected from your mainframe, punched cocked
Twirl your nose up Murray the cop, to the beat down you don't stop
When Fox and Bumpy keep it hot
End the whole beef with just one shot, niggaz I fear not
This piece of steel with the screen on top
Projects uncut chyna white dope
Leave a freeze in a toller Typ throat
I fight for this like the right to vote
The poison I spit, they'll never be an antecdote
You niggaz thought I put my mic down
Cause the industry's scared cause I put my fight down
Before I do that, I sell it out the trunk and make a mill
Now thats a real rap toller Typ deal
In 99 I'm droppin niggaz like flies
**** flowin, I'm turning niggaz into Jesse Owens
Cock the four pound, keep it going, I'm in your dresser room layin
You bitch ass niggaz just start prayin baby
Chorus:
Rhymin is a part of my life
I'ma die with rhymin kids and a rhymin wife
I don't let nobody judge me that don't know how to do what I do
So if you don't like it then **** you!
*repeat*
[Verse One]
I watch niggaz get hyped up with one single and get gassed
Then fall like a bad pass
Niggaz run outta New York, to live in other places
Hopin somebody remember old rap faces
**** that, I'ma five borough thorough MC
Where I go, New York goes, keepin New York flows
Niggaz be switchin cause they not sure
Your style is played out soft shit like Valure
In red and black living rooms when the system booms
He's a nice little diss to whomever whom
Come against me and I give you one of three picks:
Get shot, get stuck up, get your ass kicked
Bring your whole unit, and I be lyrically gunning em
Cause Freddie Foxxx be the illest thing since Run and em
I be running through you like a Hummer, you don't want none o'
So hot I turn December 25 into summer
I scrutinize niggaz and bring em down to size
My lyrical body slam will leave you paralized
**** what you memorize, I take you out of drive
And leave you neutralized and black in both your eyes
My rise is your demise, shut down your enterprise
Fox and Primo, we stay close like thighs
Bumpy got nine lives, like a cat
With a full gat, keep it underground **** that!
Chorus
[Verse Three]
For every verse I ever spit, for every mic I ever rip
I still got a full clip of unstoppable shit
You mean to tell me mother****ers never knew
That I be bustin niggaz in the head with beer bottles like Guru
Check the mic one, two make sure its on
When I bring it to your headquarters, word is bond
Heads up, eyes and ears open
I got you hopin
That you could catch rec like me
You got a better chance at kickin down a tree
With no legs, doing a handstand on two eggs
Mother****er, I got lyrical instinct, **** what you write
I'm The Source like magazine, on the cover with the Ruger 16
I ain't scared to diss a MC, but ask him if he scared to diss me
I bet he won't disagree, he'll probaly start sayin his throat
hurt, his mom's is sick with a bad knee
Or start screamin he's about dough
He's just a faggot with a whack flow
Don't walk up on me talkin freestyles and off the top of the dome
I beat you down and send your ass home
I'm on my own time, I write my own rhymes
You wanna be the nominee? you brave now?
I carve my rhyme in your back and bury you face down
Just remember toller Typ:
I'm Freddie the Foxxx I break his back and buck em buck em down
Chorus
Industry Shakedown
Yeah
"Industry Shakedown"
I call this one
The Industry Shakedown
Word up
Uh huh
"Industry Shakedown"
Now the reason I call it... the Industry Shakedown
Is cuz alot of niggas have ****ed up
"Word up, Industry Shakedown"
Now what I mean by ****ed up is
They don't wanna see the game played right
"Word up, word up"
So me and my toller Typ Pete Rock
gon show y'all how to play the game right
"Get ready for the Industry Shakedown"
"Word up, word up"
Word up, word up"
[Verse 1]
Uh, uh
I can't stop rockin I was born to keep it hot
Fought through miles of pain just to get what I got
Without crying, took mad shots without dying
Man they know when I'm in town mad heads start flyin
Who ever thought that I would be dealt the hand
That would make me the most feared lyrical man
Ask Tone how it feel not to be able to sleep
I was layin on him in his dream squeezing on the heat
I kept the pressure on him, now, I'm Universal
Now he played this money game called hand, reversal
I remember when I thought that I could rock at Def Jam
While I was watching other niggas caught up in a def scam
I remember when I stepped to Lyor, I should've blown him
Cuz that cracker been a crook, ever since I first known him
Thought I'd sale to Atlantic
But there's niggas workin for 'em that'll sink the whole label
Like the ****ing Titanic
What I gotta do is run some dick up in Sylvia Rhone
So she can hear Bumpy rockin on this microphone
Maybe I can Elektra - fy her brain
Show her how I take love and turn it to pain
I never been an ass kisser
I call it if it's right, if rappers aint gay or dikes
Then they unpluggin your mic
My shit is cordless, I'm thugged out and wild as shit
And I'm comin for my crown, it's Bumpy Knuckles baby
And it's... [scratches]
The Industry Shakedown
"Word up, word up"
Ha!
"Word up, word up"
"Ready for the Industry Shakedown"
Yeah!
"Word up, word up"
"Industry Shakedown"
"Word up, word up"
That's right toller Typ
Me and my toller Typ Pete Rock gon show you mother****ers how to shake it down
You ready for this one? Check it out
[Verse 2]
When I spit hot potato, I was peepin Tommy Boy
But didn't wanna be the the next act that they would destroy
See labels be all on your dick, when they see you have some paper
But I flip the game, cuz I pull the capers
Got way more nut, than date rapers
You better be tryin to get yourself an office
Way on top of that skyscraper
I bring the ruckus, your money lookin proper
Have you ever been stuck up by a hardcore hip hopper
Forgot ya signed to Cappa, a real Donnie Brasco
A toller Typ wit mics and tape recorders, all up in his asshole
Speakin of police, I found a Interscope
And when I looked through the hole what I saw was dope
I saw a new toller Typ, sittin behind a big desk
Wit a big head and a big chest
And a big belly, talkin on a celly
Hatin real players, cuttin niggas throats
Like he was tryin to be the mayor
Then some niggas rushed in, punched him in his mouth
Threw him down on the floor and started stompin him out
Screamin **** Steve Stoute, serve street justice
Cryin on the floor wit your lip all busted
You went out like a pussy, **** the dough you got
Cuz wit all that money toller Typ, you still can't buy a heart
Only gangstas play the part
I'm still around, to bring you, the Industry Shakedown
Ha!
"Word up, word up"
To the Pete Rock, and you don't stop
To the Pete Rock, and you don't stop
My toller Typ Pete Rock, and you don't stop
[Verse 3]
I never felt like I should have to hold back anything I say
So I make the kinda records Red Alert don't play
Because I flow too hard, my voice is penetratin
Or maybe your crate needs renovatin, I'm used to hatin
That's why I'm hockey on you niggas, stickin and skatin
I heard about the Blaze Battle, they asked me to be in it
But to not consider me one of the 50 great
So I reviewed my tapes, figured my position
Sat and thought for a minute, grabbed the phone and said listen
I sell less records than some niggas out wit a deal
Gettin more cash and all my diamonds is real
And you want me to battle for a Rolie, that I'ma take anyway
Better leave me the **** alone Bumpy Knucks don't play
It made me laugh when I think about how Gary Harris
Tried to play me than got fired and all ****in embarrassed
Fly shit is that he saw me, wit a smile, at a club
Reached to shake my ****in hand and, brought back a nub
All them temporary spots will be filled time again
You can hate me now but I will rhyme again
Fall down climb again, more wild, more corrupt
Still spittin more shit, more fire, more abrupt
And I'll never put my two guns down
Why's that
Cuz I need 'em... for the Industry Shakedown
"Word up, word up"
C'mon!
"Word up, word up"
Yeah!
"Industry Shakedown"
That's right
That's what the **** I call, a Industry Shakedown
"Word up, word up"
And it's a lotta mother****ers out there that I didn't name in this
Mother****ing song but I tell you this much
"Get ready for the Industry Shakedown"
Don't think I forgot mother****ers, cuz I reserve my options
It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, ha
"Word up, word up"
And the Chocolate Boy Wonder
I show you niggas a fast way, to six feet
Yeah
"Industry Shakedown"
I call this one
The Industry Shakedown
Word up
Uh huh
"Industry Shakedown"
Now the reason I call it... the Industry Shakedown
Is cuz alot of niggas have ****ed up
"Word up, Industry Shakedown"
Now what I mean by ****ed up is
They don't wanna see the game played right
"Word up, word up"
So me and my toller Typ Pete Rock
gon show y'all how to play the game right
"Get ready for the Industry Shakedown"
"Word up, word up"
Word up, word up"
[Verse 1]
Uh, uh
I can't stop rockin I was born to keep it hot
Fought through miles of pain just to get what I got
Without crying, took mad shots without dying
Man they know when I'm in town mad heads start flyin
Who ever thought that I would be dealt the hand
That would make me the most feared lyrical man
Ask Tone how it feel not to be able to sleep
I was layin on him in his dream squeezing on the heat
I kept the pressure on him, now, I'm Universal
Now he played this money game called hand, reversal
I remember when I thought that I could rock at Def Jam
While I was watching other niggas caught up in a def scam
I remember when I stepped to Lyor, I should've blown him
Cuz that cracker been a crook, ever since I first known him
Thought I'd sale to Atlantic
But there's niggas workin for 'em that'll sink the whole label
Like the ****ing Titanic
What I gotta do is run some dick up in Sylvia Rhone
So she can hear Bumpy rockin on this microphone
Maybe I can Elektra - fy her brain
Show her how I take love and turn it to pain
I never been an ass kisser
I call it if it's right, if rappers aint gay or dikes
Then they unpluggin your mic
My shit is cordless, I'm thugged out and wild as shit
And I'm comin for my crown, it's Bumpy Knuckles baby
And it's... [scratches]
The Industry Shakedown
"Word up, word up"
Ha!
"Word up, word up"
"Ready for the Industry Shakedown"
Yeah!
"Word up, word up"
"Industry Shakedown"
"Word up, word up"
That's right toller Typ
Me and my toller Typ Pete Rock gon show you mother****ers how to shake it down
You ready for this one? Check it out
[Verse 2]
When I spit hot potato, I was peepin Tommy Boy
But didn't wanna be the the next act that they would destroy
See labels be all on your dick, when they see you have some paper
But I flip the game, cuz I pull the capers
Got way more nut, than date rapers
You better be tryin to get yourself an office
Way on top of that skyscraper
I bring the ruckus, your money lookin proper
Have you ever been stuck up by a hardcore hip hopper
Forgot ya signed to Cappa, a real Donnie Brasco
A toller Typ wit mics and tape recorders, all up in his asshole
Speakin of police, I found a Interscope
And when I looked through the hole what I saw was dope
I saw a new toller Typ, sittin behind a big desk
Wit a big head and a big chest
And a big belly, talkin on a celly
Hatin real players, cuttin niggas throats
Like he was tryin to be the mayor
Then some niggas rushed in, punched him in his mouth
Threw him down on the floor and started stompin him out
Screamin **** Steve Stoute, serve street justice
Cryin on the floor wit your lip all busted
You went out like a pussy, **** the dough you got
Cuz wit all that money toller Typ, you still can't buy a heart
Only gangstas play the part
I'm still around, to bring you, the Industry Shakedown
Ha!
"Word up, word up"
To the Pete Rock, and you don't stop
To the Pete Rock, and you don't stop
My toller Typ Pete Rock, and you don't stop
[Verse 3]
I never felt like I should have to hold back anything I say
So I make the kinda records Red Alert don't play
Because I flow too hard, my voice is penetratin
Or maybe your crate needs renovatin, I'm used to hatin
That's why I'm hockey on you niggas, stickin and skatin
I heard about the Blaze Battle, they asked me to be in it
But to not consider me one of the 50 great
So I reviewed my tapes, figured my position
Sat and thought for a minute, grabbed the phone and said listen
I sell less records than some niggas out wit a deal
Gettin more cash and all my diamonds is real
And you want me to battle for a Rolie, that I'ma take anyway
Better leave me the **** alone Bumpy Knucks don't play
It made me laugh when I think about how Gary Harris
Tried to play me than got fired and all ****in embarrassed
Fly shit is that he saw me, wit a smile, at a club
Reached to shake my ****in hand and, brought back a nub
All them temporary spots will be filled time again
You can hate me now but I will rhyme again
Fall down climb again, more wild, more corrupt
Still spittin more shit, more fire, more abrupt
And I'll never put my two guns down
Why's that
Cuz I need 'em... for the Industry Shakedown
"Word up, word up"
C'mon!
"Word up, word up"
Yeah!
"Industry Shakedown"
That's right
That's what the **** I call, a Industry Shakedown
"Word up, word up"
And it's a lotta mother****ers out there that I didn't name in this
Mother****ing song but I tell you this much
"Get ready for the Industry Shakedown"
Don't think I forgot mother****ers, cuz I reserve my options
It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, ha
"Word up, word up"
And the Chocolate Boy Wonder
I show you niggas a fast way, to six feet