F.T. - Mad Ammo lyrics

[Intro] Cause they could maybe bust you for self or wit a crew [Hook: Celph Titled] (Uh-uh-oh) These rappers better watch out Cause we the livest in the house, boy without a doubt (Uh-uh-oh) And y'ain't know what this about We got a hundred rounds, b**h we ain't come to talk it out (Uh-uh-oh) Yeah we party hard like Mardi Gras And body y'all without a muthaf**in' bodyguard (Uh-uh-oh) Everybody face gettin' scarred Play with God and you gon' come face to face with a shark [Verse 1: FT] Haters be tryin' to keep F a secret Eat dick, I'm not the one to beef with Peep this, dog, you gon' rest in pieces For actin' like Sylvester, Garfield, Heathcliff p**y MC's I run through yo' sh** Like a untrained blue-nosed pit who won't quit Foamin' at the mouth cause the b**h is sick I'm screamin' six words: f** you and s** my dick! You will get served steppin' to me I guarantee you gon' see somethin' you probably'd never would see On top is where I'm destined to be Stop yappin', I make you quit rappin' indefinitely And I make hits effortlessly, Mr. F-to-the-T Is gettin' money, smokin' medicine leaves To be honest it's a deadly disease I'm way ahead of my league, layin' verses for incredible fees I got a incredible flow, competitors know Not to ask for a chance, I'm not lettin' it go Give me money, cash and a** instead of the blow You gon' make me spaz and smash yo' head in the do', fool [Hook] [Verse 2: Celph Titled] Double barrel from my vocal booth, I shoot with both lungs Find me in Beirut with blow guns, I'm Babe Ruth with home runs You're a crackhead with base hits Preachin' to the choir like Mase did They put a price on my head, I asked 'em how much it was Told 'em find the guy who put the hit, and I'll double it up No you can't run circles around us, triangular force BUCK, one round each Bring war like a rudeboy shotta, steel alloy binoculars Peepin' ya movements, (Why's he abusive?) Cause it's easy to do it Have ya jaw wired, now a straw's required to eat some soup sh** b**hes get souped quick, wanna know how the meat taste On a man focused on his briefcase Häagen-Dazs cheesecake at fancy restaurants Even my chicken breast got a bulletproof vest on [Hook] [Verse 3: R.A. The Rugged Man] Mic check one to the two-a, baby I'm a do ya And act like I never knew ya, I'm a dirtbag loser, use ya, abuse ya You better pray I don't choose ya, I'll bloody you and bruise ya Take you off the streets and recruit ya, you money makin', it's ya money I'm takin' Takin' ya cake and cookin' ya crack and get it shakin' and bakin' You basically basin' since 80's and Ronald Reagan Wigga-wack, jaw crack, sugar pop, dig 'em smack See me rip a track, young hoes sippin' similak Bring it back, I'm shovin' pipes up the a**es of dykes f** women's rights, I got more p**y on me than hermaphrodites You hear what I'm doin'? Then say no more I can smash you with punchlines from '94 Swing, chop, bloody axe, I'm sendin' bodies to their graves I'm the proof to the theory that white men come from caves Opposite of pacifist, if you Catholic I'm like a nun with a ruler Slappin' ya wrist, I'm hazardous when I'm packing the cannon I'm back in this b**h, Rugged Man, is he man or a myth? Is he baggin' ya chick, is he punchin' or is his stamina sick? Buck he always stayed street, I was down with Buck in the early 90's When he was puttin' sleigh bells in every beat I'm like do that, ya hookers for cover cause I'm like more than high-strung I get slightly dumb, how many styles have I begun? Come on!