Know The Red Lyrics - You Can't See Me - John Cena

) 

[Freddie Foxxx a.k.a. Bumpy Knuckles] 

Hahahaha... 

Y'all know the rep, yeah, listen 

My name is Bumpy Knuckles, I write that fuckin flame 

And kill for the right price I got a buckin name 

My forty caliber too fresh, stuck in aim 

We roll like 18 wheelers in the truckin game 

I'm nice with mics there's nothin more I like 

than to paralyze your left side and leave you all right 

I be layin front of your crib with Tec-y all night 

Tryin to get them 9 millimeters loaded up tight, listen 

I'm like a Cadillac, I write a battle rap 

so smooth contest you'll be out of that 

Y'all know the beef is stewin, that Bumpy came to ruin 

You may be signed but you don't know what the fuck you doin 

I make aight hot, I make dope raw 

And send you higher than a long Colt four-four 

You know the only rap pimp that kept a ho poor 

And slam a fool on his back and break the whole floor 

[Chorus: Bumpy Knuckles] 

A yes yes y'all, and you don't stop 

We keep on, once the cops are gone 

This is real street spit you best be warned 

Tell your favorite MC the mic is on 

A yes yes y'all, and you don't stop 

We keep on, once the cops are gone 

[John Cena] 

Yeah, yeah 

It's the J daddy, not Hov' or Jam Master 

My mic is correct, but y'all know the hands faster 

See you bitch rappers I'm attackin the pile 

Y'all be cryin foul cause I'm hackin your style 

I make sure you and your mans done 

When I see y'all both drop, I'm the cat screamin And1 

You see me on the team dog you know the game's over 

Stones on my wrist, and a chip on my shoulder 

Sixteens cashin in on another hot beat 

Go cop me a drop with the butterscotch seats 

And we better not meet, if we do you gon' see a change 

Make sure you whole FACE gettin rearranged 

We rollin up in the blacked out truck dog 

It's Freddie Foxxx, now you deal with Corrupt Mob 

It's gas on the fire, any time a track blaze 

Squad known to beef up the Heat, just like the Shaq trade 

[Tha Trademarc] 

This my 9 to 5, this ain't no hobby cat 

Copycat killers bite styles, my rhyme piles is heavy 

Give me a beat, man I'll body that 

Spittin that heat street raps man they nod to that 

What you smilin at? You R&B, man that's hardly rap 

You lost the beat, man you bought a map 

Matter fact, here's my next rap, borrow that 

Been off the street too long, I want my corner back 

You ain't a player, you a armchair quarterback 

You ride the beat like side streets on a flat 

Don't play dumb, I know where you came from 

You only seen slugs buddy after the rain come 

Keep it subtle, Trademarc got you bitch 

like babies suckin tits talkin 'bout mami let's cuddle 

It's gon' be what it's gon' be, you duck down 

A quiet cat with a violent rap, what now? 

[Chorus]