Annodomini on the beat... I had some sh*** to get off my chest... the rest is history.
hiphop
rap
music
artist
new york city
new jersey
underground
lyrical
urban
nyc
poet
rapper
staten island
nj
poetic
truth
shaolin
penns grove
shaolinyankee
ahamiltonandhope
concretecollabs
thetruthhurts
Lyrics
JC – THE TRUTH
ANNO DOMINI BEATS
CRUNCH TIME
VERSE 1:
I wrote these rhymes here,
I’m spitting, back in 01
So REALLY you can call this track here,
An old ONE.
I’m throwing it back
Man my rhymes BEEN stacked
I had to pull out a dust buster
For this rap.
It’ll pay back
But I’m not Mel Gibson
Somebody needs to tell Russell Simmons
I spit wicked…
Vision past ANYBODY
Who sees 20/20
I see 360…
And I NEVER spin 50
Ain’t it funny
People change when they get money
Aint’ NO dead president
Making ME ugly.
Haters make me cough
Yea they make my nose runny.
I’m allergic to jealous bitches
That’ll NEVER touch me.
I don’t need playboy bunnies
As a fuck buddies
I gotta real woman
Not a hoe dummy.
I came from the crumby slums
Of concrete streets
So I know when something’s dirty
You get what you see.
You get what you give
I ALWAYS give my heart
That’s why fans drop jaws
When these lips part.
HOOK:
I’ma keep spittin rhymes
Till I embrace pine.
I’ma big fan of lines,
But not the white kind.
Say what you wanna say sucka’s
Cuz I’ma get mine.
Ain’t got time for whining and dining
Cause it’s crunch time.
VERSE 2:
If I ever quit music
I’d be a man apart
Cause me and hip-hop’s like this
Two fingers crossed.
Cause me and hip-hop’s like this
Two palms clinched
Cause me and hip-hop’s like this
A gripped fist.
Step back, and give me slack
I swing quick
Got scars on my face
Cause I can take a hit.
Use to be a scrapper
Now I’m just a grown man
Spit intelligent
Be peaceful and understand.
But if you disrespect me
My friends or fam
I’ll rip your motherfuckin throat out
With my bare hands.
God give me strength
I try to be a good Christian
But these people don’t wanna listen
To a peaceful vision.
They think it’s soft
They don’t understand my mission
They’d rather follow mainstreamers
They don’t see the difference.
I even deliver better
Sniper scope precision
Scalping skinny-slim snakes
Slimy sucker submission.
Ya’ll cats keep acting
Like I’ve been lost and found.
But I’ve been around
Like a motherfuckin King crown.
I’ve seen so many big mouth bitches
Fold under pressure
Like snitches interrogated
In the private sector.
Think they won’t tell
Watch when times get tough
They’ll be folding
Like a over dose of rum for lunch
They’ll be folding
Like a bad hand of poker son
They’ll be folding
Like a Janet Jackson belly crunch.
No I’m not drunk.
I don’t even touch liquor
I don’t drink, I don’t smoke
Yea, you wrongly figured.
Ain’t you tired of wiggers
Trying to use the word nigga’
Ain’t you tired of racists
Calling black people niggers
Shut the fuck up
Stop trying to be black
Racists make me sick
Ya’ll define the phrase “white trash”.
I’m an Irish Mick
You bitches making us look bad
Change the way you think
Or you’ll end up in a body cast.
Shit worse than that
You’ll end up in a deep ditch
Then you’ll never know
What a happy life could’ve been.
Sound a little grim?
Then take me off your fuckin speakers
When I chop tracks
I swing a butcher meat cleaver.
HOOK, REPEAT.