[Verse One]
Somebody better call security it’s ’bout to be on
I’m in the streets, midnight, ’bout to bust ’til dawn
Niggas are dead wrong, if they think I’m soft in my song
You wanna die? Hah, I can help your coffin me on
I’m the reason that some rap niggas, may spit a name
I’m the reason that some niggas, still in the game
I’m the reason that rock died, some proclaim
rich underground street nigga, Bumpy came
They wonderin’, how the hell he just won’t stop and
They wonderin’, how this nigga stays so hot
Well it’s a combination of five things I live by
I don’t speak to none of these bitch-ass niggas, just give eye
Always aim for the sky, unless I’m aiming at an A&R from the majors
then I aim for the eye, and you never seen me cry
These emotional-ass industry rap motherfuckers,
Nigga just push double Y
And I always spit fly, and never be afraid
‘Cause Bumpy ain’t leaving, ’til Bumpy get paid
You niggas is like little AIDS,
infecting the sound that the real niggas started
So we keep it underground, yeah
[Chorus x2]
The Lah, lah, lah
Got me clouded brains in motion
The Lah, lah, lah
Got me causing mad commotion
The Lah, lah, lah
Hit me like a locomotion (Feel me)
The Lah, lah, lah
Smoking, smoking, smoking
[Verse Two]
Niggas know I ain’t play around when it comes to the rhyme to the sound
From the sky to the ground, I gun your ass down, like I’m aged rap round
I got a little game for the kiddies and I call it «Ain’t that clown!»
It’s Bumpy Knux, how that inquits on Al Green
Gonna make Allen Iverson stick with his team
Basketball where’s your dream, so live ya other life
Don’t go broke try to flow, be you ain’t that nice
What’s with these basketball niggas, I’m screamin’ double drittle
How you nine foot tall, and rhymin’ just a little?
I police the underground, and I’m thug upon it
Got ’em crowling with that speak, get your mom ?
By reverend glock, niggas got they’ game all twisted
It’s a lot of niggas I’ma bring it too and it’s listed
I hope he try to stand up and show me you lie
That makes my dick hard, and I get all sweaty inside
‘Cause I know this little nigga wanna prove he ain’t a sucker
But he fucking with a bad motherfucker, it’s Bumpy Knux
[Chorus x2]
[ Verse Three ]
The magazines; I like to meet my reviewer
Take his ass to the sewer, and show him what it’s like
try to come up on this mic, how to struggle, how to fight
It’s like tryin’ to fight an ass on a Chinese woman
In the dark, black night I got the double-Tech
If I wasn’t in the cigarette-smoke,
and skinny white women that play my record
I been +Hot+ since +97+, way before that
Know I come back, and niggas still bitching
You can’t even snatch a chain no more, niggas snitching
Alot of niggas is just pots in the kitchen like congresman Rangle
Missed the mo’ changle with fucked up angles
The blacks start suffer while the white start spangle
Banner and we don’t play on MTV
The fucking record company is all up on the MP3
And the bootleg factory, I got niggas saying «Bumpy too black for me»
It’s the truth nigga, I see, but you blinded by glitter
And you got a little cheddar what made you pussy gain better
While you need mic-nice lessons nursery rhyming
When all a nigga want is a car and a hurtmean diamond
He’ll do anything for anybody
And suck a dick like he MC Lewinsky
I’m the nigga that you can’t see, don’t ever get it fucked up
All you sucka ass niggas with they bump knucked up
[Chorus x2]
