Every Rapper In The House Shut The Fuck Up

[Verse 1: Copywrite]
We do dirt
We go alone. I’m PS2, your game’s Coleco, it’s old
Big-headed, and the size ain’t fitted for my ego alone
Holding NY, but I do it for my people back home
In O-H-I-O, where the snowflakes like whoa
Fiends sniff in the streets, hoping it’s cocaine by loads
I tell ‘em, “Sorry, but there’s no way, 5-0
Would have scooped it and sold that shit to the whole state by now”
A message for you biters: don’t take my style
When it’s straight under, you’re fetal, have your Colgatе-like smile
In cutthroat mode with no cakе right now, so
Get your girl a vest to protect her chest ‘cause I
Pull out on a bitch like unprotected sex, then I
Take her bracelet and matching necklace set, no patience
Quicker, it’s an unexpected death, be gracious
Bitch, I’m nutting on your breast and chest. Now blow me
You brat, twenty bucks you owe me for that
Throw me a sack. Honest, I promise to pay you back
Next time you ask me, I’ll be like, “You shouldn’t have gave me that”
Gangbanging your chick, you keep tonguing that bitch
Cats that see me come up be like, “How you keep coming with shit?”
I tell ‘em, “Sometimes the illest shit’s right under your nose”
Like my mouthpiece when I recite some of my flows
And dykes wanna get close, I turn ‘em heterosexual
Then turn around and be like, “Invite some of your hoes”
You are what you eat. That shit’s facts
Why I never eat pussy and just stick with Big Macs/MACs

[Hook: Cage]
Every rapper in the house shut the fuck up
Every rapper in the house shut the fuck up
Every rapper in the house should shut the fuck up
Don’t go against no Weathermen, you gonna get fucked up

[Verse 2: Cage]
And I ain’t fucked up now, bluffing the basics
Lead stuff in the Asics from that kid puffing the Matrix
I let my brain cells fight it out until the lighter out
You ain’t even got hands to hold the guns you write about
Ain’t got a heater. Meanwhile, Cage be wanting four fifths
I stay putting it down and don’t come off this
Accomplice not needed, spray dolo with more
Letter combinations in my blood than K-Solo
LSD, THC, PCP
The only three left I need’s GED, oh!
You know you can’t stand the manic
Even if you don’t get the picture, the point of view’s still panoramic
Chemical organic, leaf is clouding
Get your contact cracking in three plus two thousand

[Verse 3: Yak Ballz]
Damn! How you like us now, bitches?
Weathermen chain gang! I’ll let you count the stitches
Fresh-ordered Timbs every time I kill it
But it’s really not the outfit, it’s how I fit in it
My shine is bling-bling, floss like cha-ching-ching
Sluts all souped-up, they wanna be my main fling
There’s no denying that he’s doing the damn thing
Fucking puppets like I got these motherfuckers on strings. You don’t
Really want it. Put money on it, I’ll put a hunny on it
Fuck it, I’ll put a couple hunnies on it, get twenty on it
Smoke the kid up, smoke, choke my shit up
Flow so hot now, 5-0 want my wrists in cuffs
But not before I get my cut
Fuck J-Lo, I know dimes with bigger butts
And I’m sorry that you faggots shit out of luck (Luck!)
Drank too much, and my stomach ready to upchuck!
Put me in the clip, dump it. Cliques running but there’s nowhere
To hide, so I gotta hit something
Split something, we get the shit jumping
Mayne!