Battle — текст песни (GangStarr)

{*scratched: What? You wanna battle ME?*}
{*scratched: Yo man, how much money you got?*}
{*scratched: What? You wanna battle ME?*}
{*scratched: Yo man, how much money you got?*}

[Guru]
I used to guzzle 40`s, and own a beat up Caddy
Since the hood still love me, I`ll turn the heat up daddy
I went from mackin fly honies on the train
to straight relaxin on the beach, countin money gettin brain
Soon as you rappers get a chance you wanna floss a lot
You buy a iced out watch because it cost a lot
Then you in the club, stylin with dough
Profilin with hoes that we boned, a while ago
You rookies haven`t done enough laps around the track
You had one hot single, but then your album sounds wack
Son you bore me with your war stories
You ain`t even do that shit, so that`s just more stories
How you expect us to take you seriously?
The look in my eye punk, has got you scared of me
I`m blastin your sons, I`m snatchin your funds
You catch a royal ass-whoopin, you`ve been askin for one

{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}
What.. what? {*scratch: We thorough to the end*}
Yo man.. You know the drill
{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}
What.. what? {*scratch: You wanna battle me?*}
Yo man.. How much money you got?

[Guru]
Bitch you don`t even know, the half about me
I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me
I`m just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser
I might advise ya, or I might pulverize ya
I can visit any city, get respect in the street
While you alone in your room, shook to death of the streets
I`ll take a second to speak, I keep my weapon in reach
I ain`t talkin romance but you`ll get swept off your feet
I keeps a ghetto chick, that loves to blast and she peddle shit
Groupies fake moves, I get her to settle shit
You can`t compare to the status right here
Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here
Listen junior, I`ma tear back your wig
This ain`t TV but I`ll show you what a Fear Factor is
Stop grillin me, and all that frontin is killin me
You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings G

{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}
What.. what? {*scratch: You wanna battle me?*}
Yo man.. How much money you got?
What.. what? {*scratch: We thorough to the end*}
Yo man.. You know the drill
{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}
{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}
{*scratch: We thorough to the end*}
{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around*}
You know the drill
{*scratch: We thorough to the end*}
{*scratched: I`m bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game*}
You know the drill