“SUCKA MC’s” Kendrick Lamar,Joell Ortiz,Cassidy and Papoose (Control Response) Lyrics

Quadir Lateef Lyrics


Its a lot of dumb kings in this kingdom
Every knee shall bow when the king come
Im looking like king Kong
Punch you with some pointy a** rings on
Murder was case is my theme song
A goons to a goblin? N***a whats a king to a klingon?
You rappers ain't sh*t, bling on
So bring on any rappers in yo top five
I will pop five, leave em c*cked eye, top fried like some Popeye's
N***a not I, I will not lie
Cut em like a mock five wit his Tom Ford and his knot tied
Y'all better not move till Im finished
Take a pool full of liquor throw a molotov in it
You a good kid but you mad silly
Better ask diddy who the king of the bad city n***a that's biggie
Burn any n***a from Top Dog like hot sauce
N***as trying to come to NY and get they rocks off
J rock soft pull the Soul out of Ab
And I school boys too I'm on Q when I blast
You the first one who spoke but I'm gonna deal with you last
I ain't never been signed I gotta deal with the past
Im not even mad at you Kendrick I'm mad at your dad
For the times he let you speak without whooping yo a**
When you said you was the best and he never would laugh
Ao when you come to NY you better ask for a pa**
Name a rapper spitting hotter than me, I'll make it harder to breath
He in his feelings got his Heart on sleeve
One shot makes his artery bleed
Then hopping out of the trees to take the life of a party MC
Ain't a chic that a part of me need, ain't a block i can't probably bleed
Its probable pistols pop at ya knees
Papi ran from his seeds now poppy seed get him bread in the streets
Until he's killed by the beast
Now them white folks scared of you, crackers fearing you
Negro spiritual, n***as fearing you
I'm feel in like pac did even though my pops dead
Recite al-fatihah al-qurans that my pops read
No pot luck for these pot heads
Just p*ssin in pots until they whipping, shifting, getting the gwop
I ain't trippin, finger gripping the Glock
Hitting belligerent cops, pay zakat then i pray in jumat
You want a war? with a warrior of wars? telling stories of before
I'm like denzel in glory with a sword
Matter fact like horry on the boards, fresh mauries and velour
Turn your home into a morgue with the 4-4 out the ford 4 door
Real warlord, drop em from the fourth floor
What the phuck you front for you don't really want war, turn that beef to horderves
Then i ask em once more, now you sounding unsure
Only lyricists i respect is Huey, Malcolm, A**ata, Steve bBiko for the people Muhammad, Marcus and Marley, Muhammad Ali and Ghandi
You n***as know where to find me in the streets where you either catch aids or catch a homi
I know what yall thinking am I better than holmes?
You took shots at the beat I'm a predator drone
So kendrick you can't defend it ca**idy is after me
When slaughter house hear my verse they are gonna ask for me
Papoose spat the truth, the homey I got u
I blessed every n***a with this track, hatchoo
I ain't tryna say I'm the king of New york
But after i spit this verse I'm tryna put the king in a hearse!




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