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lirik lagu love for vic – vic spencer

i’m the worst rapper yo..
how the worst rapper is the most hated tho?
whatever…

agh
vic spencer: the worst rapper from chicago
they want me out the city as far as the chi-go
but im out here posted on dangerous blocks
with n-gg-s that miss school and love slangin’ the glock
agh
changing the plot, rearranging the flock
the circle has changed, now i get to aim at the box
agh
this is world war ten, i got bombs for ya’
see it in ya’ video lookin’ like tom sawyer (haha!)
look how i came out the dirt and emerged
to be one of the greatest to ever do it without leaving the curb
seein’ chicks curve n-gg-s, and end up crashing
seein’ one opinion turn the whole earth to bat-sh-t
n-gg-s that once knew me call me an angry uncle
i’m lookin’ at these n-gg-s like “what the world has come to?”
(ugh?)
very p-ssionate about who i’m rappin’ with
so all of this loyal sh-t, i ain’t havin’ it
agh
b-mping freight by amy
nothing changed me except for death
but either way, i’ll die the same
so many times i could’ve hide the pain
but you hear it in my voice every time i rhyme again
sittin’ in the jewish restaurant with dr. mind bender
and he from belize blowin’ weed, look what time get ya’
me and my wife havin’ a hard-time finding babysitters
argument everyday, look what time get ya’ (agh)
fixin’ the plot, i’ve been liftin’ a lot
not the waste acquiesce when i’m skippin’ your block
in 98′ we was sippin’ ciroc, before the manufacture
i seen n-gg-s come n’ go, look what life got ya’
bars sound like i should never sit behind ’em
spit a couple lines at ’em then they blind faster
sometimes the mind matter if you f-ck with me
but you point the finger at the wrong guy in the truck with weed
posted in that b-tch smokin’ out the backseat
no f-cks to them rappers out here showing -ss-cheecks (ew!)
rafe ceiling lights in the tahoe
i’m safe in the hood over downtown chicago
see some protesters, i don’t f-ck with that sh-t
i be killin’ the role, petal wall stroll with the kicks
ten years ago, at the taste in the see-thrus
got me some p-ssy off wearin’ then 350 v2s
(agh)
i ain’t in to that lifestyle, i write wild
tazmanian devil how i react now
the microphone i can hug on the spot
appreciate all the love that i got, muhf-cker
(oooh!)
that’s it… no more
lyrical exercise
death out of vi, right?

- vic spencer

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