Listen to Live at the Bbq (feat. Motive, Styles of Beyond & Celph Titled) song with lyrics from Apathy

Live at the Bbq (feat. Motive, Styles of Beyond & Celph Titled)

Apathy, Motive, Styles of Beyond, Celph Titled4 Nov 2003

Live at the Bbq (feat. Motive, Styles of Beyond & Celph Titled) Lyrics

 

 

Live At The Bbq - Apathy/Motive/Styles of Beyond/Celph Titled

Ap ain't merciful

Shoot up your convertible

Lay your body flat while your soul goes vertical

Versatile impossible to pigeon hole

Gettin' doe spittin' flows

From complex text to pimpin' hoes

That's why your girlfriend feel me man

It's alarmin' how charmin' I really am

Got a glock that'll Rock like a Band

So this gun in my right hand is named Steely Dan

Steal the show steal hoes steal your fans

Steal my flow

We'll hang you from ceiling fans

Your little hoe tryin' to

Front like she's hard to get off

Tell that finger lickin'

Chicken bring the barbecue sauce

Ayo I stay clean Rake Doe

Lay low with a full clip

My yayo fiends on payroll get

Smacked over bullshit

Motive notice I never fall victim to no one

The truth that'll f**k tracks

In the booth with a Trojan

Respect due cause whole crew

Is professionals

Quickly show a ni**a

What a knife in the chest will do

While y'all front still spittin' the same

The only time y'all kill

Somethin' is on a video game

Cause any beef we're gonna ride at all cost

Have you shot in your cars

Have you sittin'

And Sideways and like Paul Wall

Chopped and Screwed up

Cause you niggas do suck

That's why your girls

Chained to our sticks like nunchucks

You got a death wish

I'm the Fresh Prince of tech clips

You gotta respect it

The west died I came in

Resurrected the west side like Game did

You ain't sh*t

I came with a gang that's brain dead

And walk around talkin'

To they selves like Rain Man

My game plan is thick

Your dames on my dick

All my girlfriends got name

Tags that all say "B**ch"

Y'all can't really spit

Rip tracks I spit crack

Click chrome and finish off cliques like six packs

S O B be the first sucker to mouth off

I call Celph up tell him to

Bring me the cow prod

And that's all

 

Don't ask me for nothin'

Ask me for somethin'

Mega Ton bombs strapped to my chest

Don't even ask if I'm buggin'

Warlord from the dark star

All my dogs bark paw

Talk hard and get hit by a parked car

Swimmin' where the sharks are

Yes I'm one guy

That won't speak when

I'm holdin' heat cause I'm gun shy

You're damn right that I'm a studio gangster

Bring the Mac-11 to

Your mix down and shoot the place up

Your b**ch get face f**ked

Bustin' on her Clairol

Deep throatin' so far she coughin' up hairballs

Disregard the law

F**k a gun ban

I got a group of musicians with

AKs that's my gun band

See it's like that y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

 

And that's all

 

You know me homie I'm a tax a million cats

Till they can't rap

Get the cash that feelin' 'em yeah

They call him Tak with a glass of Guinness

To rock city blocks

And bringin' 'em Back To The Grill and again

 

The Demi-G O D s

We take 'em a little higher

Than California bud when we smoke trees

Tryin' to walk is like Calypso with broke knees

With half of your body slain

With your brain in your goatee

Oww that's on S O B

Plus I carry a knife cause

I'm a sick d**e fiend

Got 'em panickin' damn

It cause the bandit has spoken

Yeah it don't take much

To bust a cantaloupe open

B**ch

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

That y'all

 

That's all

 

***Lyrics are from third-parties***