Lames

[Verse 1:] It ain't nothin for me to roll wit twelve fire arms The kid got more beef than Hillshire Farms But I ain't gon turn my shit into some sausage I'm gonna turn my beef into some coffins Flow so sick I'm nauseous I ain't signed yet, these labels makin me BS often I don't care, its all they loss, the price is only gon go up Nigga im gonna blow up, American Music Awards, yea I'm gon show up When I win one of them, I'm gonna throw up Yup, right on whoever's in-front of me I came from the P, ain't nobody in this bitch that can front on me Aint nobody shutter me, I'm under my own wing A.B. nigga, yea I'm runnin' my own thing Smile ery'time the phone rings, ‘cause I know its money on the other end Not my homie's lover-friend, gotta bring the shovel in Im buryin' these niggas careers To me it appears they all queers They what we call pimps, we need more squares Who wanna holla back? In-fact I'm all ears

[Chorus:] These lames (these lames) They fuckin' up the game (Niggas fuckin' up the game, said these lames fuckin' up the game) It's a shame the way that things change [Repeat]

[Verse 2:] Anytime you wanna know about Saigon Go to what type of thug are you w.com Put through the fire like Chaka Kahn Seen all of the stop signs but to me them jokers was jus octagons Couldn't tell me I was not the bomb Lil nigga couldn't fight but I was quick to cock a nine Never quick to drop a dime Even though niggas dropped dimes on my bout fifty-eleven times Crime time, this is a fine time to rhyme Im feelin like a million, word to my mom Im glad all of yall niggas chasin' a dame I'll DMX the game wit no sets to claim Throw it all on my back wit jail bars on my arm War scars on my hear from gettin' it on Cap sacky nigga, they backed me nigga They feelin my tracks and Clinton back I fuck around and go platinum off jail niggas alone What up Nap-Nap how yall love that?

[Chorus]