The Conceited Bastard Lyrics - Singles - Mad Skillz

Uh, what what? supafriendz, uh, uh 

Straight up and down, ain't no comparing me, see 

Cause I got some shit that'll put y'all motherfuckers 

Back in freestyle therapy, b 

I make rappers fall like when school starts, like cheap tissue 

When you're next to my shit you're getting ripped apart 

Dissing wack niggas without rehearsal 

No matter what I say somebody gonna take it personal, so fuck it 

Your man put down the cheddar, nigga we get the pay-oh 

I make sure you lose a friend for life and be looking for a way home 

Get dropped on your rap block without leaving a spot 

Separate you from the jock, I got plans to make you hot 

Watch an mc and you rot, nigga these flows is crisp 

When a mic in my hand bitches is supposed to be like this 

There's mad niggas that wanna see mad skillz slip 

Yeah you gonna see me slip, past your ass with your bitch in my whip 

Get a grip, whoever got the itch then I got the scratch 

Mc's wanna get gassed, I feed their ass a lit match 

All these jealous-ass niggas acting sheisty 

Better tongue kiss magic johnson before they tell me I'm nice 

But that's aiight, northside e, conceited times three 

Come through your town on skis, subtracting mc's 

Word to battle be in lonnie's last name 

Approach me, all you getting that 

Plus you getting blown out the fucking frame 

Who the nigga that got a big head when he on the mic, pa? 

Ask a question, answer me (bastard, you are) 

Who the mc that grab the mic and start busting rappers' asses? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Who be burning beats down leaving you with straight ashes? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Who's the one who put wack mc's right in their casket? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Man these fools, they slower than retarded molasass, who the nicest? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Ayo, these little niggas in the rap game, they straight lame 

Had diss you in a rhyme, but these niggas be scared to say your name 

If a nigga say mine, he getting bagged, kid, I'm a be in the 

Studio whipping his ass before he can finish his fucking ad-libs 

Taking me out? stop hoping 

Niggas always say they gonna do it, it never get done, it's like voting 

I get it open, rhymes tying into name 

Simple and plain, I pull rhymes, one ring and one chain 

I give a fuck about fame, press your luck and quit 

Mic-wise you realize I ain't that nigga you wanna fuck with 

I'm nice as a bitch with the rhyme, if a nigga say I'm wack 

He don't know his name, can't walk a straight line 

Pissy drunk, screaming like onyx 

Forgot his social security number, damn near drowning in his own vomit 

I kill logic, test me friend, you'll be in a club with your clothes 

On backwards hollaring at a well-known lesbian 

Half of y'all niggas got wack raps and wack tracks 

Talking about you representing, putting your town on the map 

Still, your mother heard your tape and wanted to shoot you 

And niggas around this bitch wonder why we call ourselves "super? " 

Your flows get you free lunch, mine get dough and cash 

You shouldn't like that your ho got my logo tatooed on her fucking ass 

I do all y'all playa haters, believe me 

You trying to end your career before this shit even start, come see me 

Outro: repeat 2x 

Who the mc that grab the mic and start busting rappers' asses? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Who be burning beats down leaving you with straight ashes? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Who's the one who put wack mc's right in their casket? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

Man these fools, they slower than retarded molasass, who the nicest? 

(you are you conceited bastard) 

"well that's true" "you are" (repeat 16x)