Mystikal 13 Years
[Chorus:]
Thirteen motherfucking years!
I know what to do to knock your stupid ass
So bad you ain't no challenge.
Thirteen motherfucking years!
This ain't no fluke this pure deep talent.
Thirteen motherfucking years!
I know what to do to knock your stupid ass
So bad you ain't no challenge.
Thirteen motherfucking years!
Bow when I hold the microphone and hold it
Keeping me rapping until I hoarse and swollen
Thirteen years and rolling
I rate colder than coldest
Getting part of this, niggas don't want no more of this
Never leave you alone in your life, nigga I'm selecting and selling rhymes
Slap a nigga that style sound some like mine
Mad enough you screaming "It AIN'T!"
(This line whispered, can't hear)
You be pissing me off some the time, take you down one at a time
I'm be known for fucking over your whole album
Who want my rhyme?
Keep declining, I'm keep climbing
Keep ducking, I'm keep bucking
Keeping heat seeking rhymes coming to get you bitches off me
Disrespectors cow sled, (..?..)
Hard to break, if it comes that way
It took me thirteen motherfucking years just to make a tape
But that don't mean that my rhymes one of the strongest
All I know I been trying to make it for the fucking longest
Fuck the side of all this, long as you done it
When I done it, getting blunted bout to run this bitch
Taking them riders down with me, clown with me
Leave thirteen in your motherfucking chest and you can count em
Nigga go pass the vibe, dividing mad this year
Creative catastrophe, leave emcees in closed caskets
Hit ya like full metal jackets, cut like hatchets
Tight as ratchets, and burn like matches
Thick than amino acids, flip like gymnastics, nasty as a pissy mattress
Dropping like the temperature in December
Clipping em, tipping em, been writing raps far back as I can remember
Full of them rocks, everybody move key
It was ghetto Djs and sucker emcees
Handle your business in this industry of competition
Or be at F.W. Bulls washing dishes
Bitch I was born to write million dollar rhymes
Battle in the hallways of Cohen back in 85
86, 87, 88, hooked up with Big Boy records and made my first demo tape
We dropped some real shit in the basement
I had big ol' nigga tracks, raps like pavement
To come from New Orleans made it hard to surface
That's when I got discouraged and joined the service
Pissed of and I (?) before long
I went to war and served federal time before I made it back home
No more rips in my jeans and getting my cream
Ain't shit unlucky about my number thirteen