Rasta Imposter Lyrics - Soundtrack Exclusives & Rarities - Ll Cool J

Intro: 

What you got to do with it? What the fuck you talkin about? 

What the fuck you got to do with it? You stupid nigga? You stupid? 

Did you see that video, nigga? Fuck wrong with you? Like you don't, 

you don't know what you go to do with it. Like your fuckin insane or 

something. (You fuckin wack ass nigga) 

(laughing in background) 

[Verse One] 

Y'all faggots is weak, y'all starstruck niggas think shit is sweet 

That busy signal bullshit is dead up in the street 

Heard that garbage dough jam, made me reminisce 

On when heard your man's wack shit and went to take up his 

Jealous faggot man cause I'm richer than y'all 

When I load my desertees, I'm picturin y'all 

On the streets of Queens where I was raised and born, hardcore 

And stood on every corner like a liquor store 

Clips full of hollowtips, follow loose lips 

Aimin at your clique and make em cough up my chips 

Bitch, ya niggas wanna see if I'm ill? 

Wanna see how many rappers can be killed, how much blood can spill? 

When I inject this lyrical drill, if I can't do it, the dumb-dumbs 

will 

Tell that nigga to tell his man to tell that nigga 

I send the wolves to kill that nigga 

If you wanna know why, its cause I'm still that nigga 

Michael Jordan of all this rap shit, pullin the trigger 

What the fuck? You on a mission to self-destruct 

And have the nerve to let the chickenhead model cluck 

Your swervin nigga, better follow the white lines 

Your up on the sidewalk, off course, read the sign 

I'm so ill, y'all niggas is so wack 

Your whole crew is such, y'all lack the hard impact 

Far as your man go, I got young niggas that wanna get him 

Treat him like a Philly, wet'im and split'im 

Chorus 

L.L. don't lose niggas, we can do it however you choose nigga 

One on one or round up the crews nigga 

But Can-I-Blast you out your shoes nigga 

You know the rules nigga! 

*repeat* 

[Verse Two] 

Queens shit, give me cream so I can grab my dick 

Sew that shit, what the fuck y'all niggas workin with? 

Backwards, ass-jerk, jumpin up out the woodwork 

Ridin my meat, tryin to critique my physique 

A real nigga wouldn't even mention my lips 

Can't believe you went there, no I know you a bitch 

Sugar-coated nigga, deep-throated nigga 

Young guns take a pull before they quote a nigga 

Yeah, I wrote it nigga for all my real live devoted niggas 

I'm a true and livin lyrically ill poet nigga 

So what you talkin bout? That shits supposed to be hot? 

Y'all niggas on the warpath, y'all takin over my block? 

I think not, matter of fact your not aloud to rap no more 

And if you hear this in the club sneak out the backdoor 

And if you bumpin in your ride make sure your windows is up 

and your tint's passed the limit 

So they don't know a faggot's in it! 

I'm L.L. and I did this to you 

Teflon waitin for every nigga runnin with you 

Rhymes hit you, lace you up again and split you 

Niggas ain't official thats why Mom Dukes miss you 

Tell your man bring it on, I'm only gettin warm 

Never die, never quit, and my money's long 

Punk ass crab nigga, talkin bout his lips 

Constantly involvin my name with that bullshit! 

Why I diss you? You stepped up in the ring 

Ice jinglin in the video like you the next Don King 

And tell your man I know he got some lyrics in the stash 

But I'm the best that ever did it, now get this motheruckin ass 

Mic's too hot to hold, leave it in the sand 

So I can describe the picture with both hands 

You must not understand who's in command 

I got all the flavor, but y'all niggas is mad bland 

Chorus 

[Verse Three] 

I'll cut your fuckin head off and leave it on your mom's dresser 

Then pay the pope a hundred thou to go and bless her 

You wanna test a lyrical teacher and professor? 

I bet y'all niggas fall off now that your under pressure 

I don't stress ya, yet still I must check ya 

Extort niggas for gettin fucked up, stop and inspect ya 

Fuck wrong with you nigga? You can't do nothin to me 

If I put a slug in you on the low, you'd probably try to sue me 

Your girl blew me, I said "Now!" She said "Do me" 

Bust a nut in her face on tape to let the crew see 

Can't put dirt roll, nigga poppin shit 

Underestimantin what Queens niggas'll do for chips 

I originated all this shit 

The ice, the champagne, the bitches on the dick 

That really don't apply to you crabs in a barrel 

Mic's my staff sendin you a message like Pharaoh 

Leave it alone or get swallowed in the sea 

The King of Hiphop is something you could never be 

My crown you'll never see, I'll rule forever, G 

I'll be goin platinum when you just a memory 

I'm the double L, capital C, double O 

With the seven upside down jakes slayin the clown 

What the fuck wrong wit y'all niggas? You out your mind nigga? 

You better try to go beg Lauryn to come back or something 

Fuck wrong with you? 

Chorus