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lirik lagu regulation time – mr. voodoo

mr. voodoo * “regulation time”
[emcee(s): mr. voodoo]
[producer(s): charlemagne]

[intro: mr. voodoo]
yeah, yeah (yo, yo), nah (it’s about that time), nah (it’s about that time, man), nah, man (for real). let me talk to these n*ggas (aight), know’m saying? (yeah, yeah) let me let this n*ggas know (let ‘em know, let ‘em know). for real though (for real, yeah), i’ma let these n*ggas now (these n*ggas know it’s regulation time, baby)

[verse 1: mr. voodoo]
no more props, i want property, green crispy things
shopping sprees and blings on the wrist and rings
in this underground rap, i’m the gypsy king. count me down
and out, but it ain’t over ‘til misty sings, so kiss these rings
‘cause i’m the boss. y’all claim y’all gods and kings, but
i’m a higher force like the iron cross
i’m on a higher level of growth. in
this game, i’m god and the devil both
i’m loving it but hating. out of nothing, i’m creating
sk!lls so real, some feel i made a covenant with satan, ain’t
a coon or a sambo, just a goon with some
ammo, taking out platoons like i’m rambo
my mic’s a dagger, flows filled with gold pieces like
goldschläger, my life is a scarface life saga
the suicide bomber, rap’s osama, n*gga
play you like mary jane ‘cause y’all don’t want no more drama

[hook: mr. voodoo]
(y’all don’t know?) thought i told y’all. (can’t see?) i’ma show y’all
it’s regulation time, but this ain’t motherf*cking pro ball
(y’all don’t know?) thought i told y’all. (can’t see?) i’ma show y’all
it’s regulation time, but this ain’t motherf*cking pro ball
(y’all don’t know?) thought i told y’all. (can’t see?) i’ma show y’all
it’s regulation time, but this ain’t motherf*cking pro ball
(y’all don’t know?) thought i told y’all. (can’t see?) i’ma show y’all
holler at your boy

[verse 2: mr. voodoo]
and i’m from
b*dot*k*dot, spray shots
stay hot, more heat than a sunray’s got where there’s
longs blocks of thugs who ain’t trying to spar with
boxing gloves, they’re trying to leave you scarred with glocks and slugs
where there’s more shots exchanged than more rocks
exchanged, than there’s shares on the stock exchange
and to cop that range and that escalade
a lot of dudes engage in criminal escapades
so i spit crime and rhyme raps ‘cause the two are tied together
y’all n*ggas ain’t writing raps, y’all writing suicide letters
put two inside your lettuce. test me? i’m blasting and leave
your family trying to keep hope alive like jesse jackson
i leave your clothes soiled, my flows boil
the thing that’s closest to oil
this ain’t burger king, but the flame broil when i
aim, recoil, now your whole game’s spoiled

[verse 3: mr. voodoo]
then the twin towers fall and everyone bawled, they want
four more years of rudy—what the f*ck wrong with y’all? moody n*gga
don’t make me pull a .38 long on y’all
got an empty plate—don’t make me take what belong to y’all
(look) don’t hate, i’m trying to ball in a system where
justice a blind b*tch with dollar signs for eyeb*lls
i blast a nine at y’all, shots are burning your bosom, you’ll be
receiving your final call, but y’all not muslim (look)
i ain’t an entertainer feeding you fraudulence
and i ain’t an entertainer, don’t need an audience, took
what i lived and experienced—skull, note that sh*t
wrote that sh*t, so y’all can quote that sh*t
all i’m asking for’s ice before i see h*ll, and
all the sacrifice can’t see me fail. y’all
n*ggas hermaphrodites, part male and female
and this ain’t the seashore, but n*ggas gonna see sh*lls

- mr voodoo

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