woo - project move lyrics
[verse 1: mike “anonymous” pruitt]
yo, when the beat’s hot i cheap shot fillin’ my brim again [?]
it’s all real from my hand down to my timberlands
rhymes are like the mailman, always deliverin’
and i’ll see the snow, you know, i’ll float assemblin’
hold the mic like a gun, are you suckas surrendin’?
say your little rhymes but you can’t remember the
champion of sound, so you can crown my king again
vigors wanna spar with the arts to bring ’em in
you’ve been to jail, keep it real, sk!lls is minimum
leave you caught up in the sp*ce time continuum
it still sucks, with project move you in flux
you’re just middlemen* won’t even consider them a little bit
[verse 2: raheem jamal]
fresh whether live on stage or in stereo
bang when we do our thang, slang lyrical
you talk the same old game… typical
we speak the most unique, too difficult
step up talkin’ sh*t might cripple you
special parking sp*ce made just for you
talkin’ ’bout real mcs, n0body mentions you
like a camera with no flash i can’t picture you
how the h*ll you got fans or people feelin’ you?
wrote a whole rhyme for that: project material
pay my dues, refuse to lose to you imbeciles
monkeys see, monkeys do the same identical
mic check, money sign, quite sunny dialect
live wire text, hip*hop hot pepper step
rock roll avalanche dance romance step
hemp rep, y’all are vamp, revamp my freelance
excellent dap weed champ, mr. fancy pants
bougie b*boy stance, snooty face
hoods [?] only hate today, get out my way
superman ego, i’ll leave it bound away
[interlude]
i get antsy when i [?]
[?]
i got a smile on my face
laugh, i heard it happened before!
[verse 3: moe pope]
i ain’t rich but i’m a king
so leave your diamonds and fancy things, god
i work two jobs to feed my child
i rip on beats to feed my style
i don’t sell drugs or drink cristal
but respect the girls shakin’ in the alley
i ain’t happy ’til the crowd goes wild, buddy
i’m lovely and i walk with a swag, you know
you’re plain, you’re not too original
uh*huh, and when the blood gets spilled
another brother from a neighborhood who just got k!lled
i don’t wear rings, i got bills
food for thought, i rhyme for meals, go
n*ggas’ll pop [?], cause i got no sk!lls (x2)
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