Lyrical Wizardry Lyrics - Singles - Junior M.a.f.i.a

Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's 

Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me 

Burnin' everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties 

Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie 

Style weak? Hardly! 

Don't let the wacked pursue you like Marley 

JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys 

Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers 

Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas 

Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts 

Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin' up skateboards 

wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me 

shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci 

outta paper bags like Joe Pesci 

Yo, you know the tune 

Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons 

Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies 

bustin' .380's outta E Class Mercedes 

(Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!) 

(Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L) 

(There they go right there, dot them niggas) 

(Motherfuckers!!) 

MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass 

Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass 

Who want to get broke the fuck up? Tell me! 

Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees 

T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es 

The nicest, Jesus Christ-es 

Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso 

Bullets evacuated out windows 

From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates 

Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck 'cause feds check the waist 

No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break 

Heads are clockin', private eyes are watchin' 

Nigga caught up in the hustle 

Fuck flippin' packages and tyin' up, minx and rings I bubble 

Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors 

Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers 

Armani, Gianni Versace, V2 

lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran through 

It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards 

leave them bitch ass niggas screamin' like a fuckin' retard 

Lyrically I come off like ink alarms 

Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms 

Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV 

tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen 

(Hey, you're not fifteen) 

I'm fifteen, what? 

(What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin'?) 

Fuck you! Soundin' like that nigga from Night Court 

Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!