I Heard That Song B4

Lyrics

[Intro] Yeah Madseicc 'til I mothafuckin' die! Let me get a little Strange Thing is, thin kids, you know, that's what it's for, you know what I mean? Every time I hear some shit, niggas sound more and more like me Makes me wanna quit this shit But uh, I'ma do it like this [Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung] Try to find me, it's like I'm Chinese Somewhere in China, they minor, them niggas die easy Them niggas whiners, I'll make 'em red as the 49ers Leave 'em dead, cut off the head, nigga, I'm a potent rymer I'm a pokish rifle, give 'em an eyeful, I'm a sniper Nobody like her, she cocks back, snaps like a viper I'm into makin' niggas quit the game, split ya brain, hit ya gang Niggas don't know what happened, look at the picture frame I'm 5150 mixed with cocaine, ptomaine poisoning Put your boys in it, after you get ate, they get the same I'm insane, something's stuck in my membrane, it's them thangs Told me tuck 'em and then change clothes, change shoes Range rove, your brain froze, they lose, they know I could rip a nigga to smithereens I snake when I slither in then I'ma get my bitch to get the keys Ain't that a bitch, that nigga sounds like a Mini-Me, I'm tellin' you [Chorus] Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta [Verse 2: C-Lim] Is it true nigga? You wanna feud? Yeah, this is about you, nigga It's a truce, but if I spit what I knew Your career could go poof, nigga You clearly disrespected the homies What you said is baloney The truth is that you're respected by none, protected by homies And you a bitch, you a bitch and you a bitch And I don't give a fuck who it is, I ain't new to this When I see you I'ma take flight like stewardess Tried to do a diss, you got a lot of nerve Acting like you put in a lot of work, I did a lot of dirt They'll find you murked with your head missing and your body burnt 'Cause a lot of words that you say are mines I don't ask much, just say I'll ride They say I'm fake, they say I died But everything that they say are lies And you plagiarized Brotha Lynch Hung Niggas know where you get your shit from That ain't a biz, homie, we was the shit, homie Then you flipped on us like a flip phone Did a diss song, nigga, this Madesicc Every nigga in the click bang Crip And the one's that don't is Strange Fuck rapping, we could arrange shit Fuck that, we could rearrange cribs When I bust straps you see the flame lit Stuff crackin and the paint lifting I'm tryna come back, could read my name in it [Chorus] Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta [Verse 3: Tall Cann G] Yeah nigga, this a Madesicc, we got 'em all sick Fall back quick, we'll just take it to the basic You're gonna get left faceless Got a gangsta in your face I get up close and personal, stick you at random I'll pick 'em, can't be choosy, unload the Uzi Put the whole banana clip up in your booty Speaking on The Made, nigga, you is a real bitch On some cocky shit I got the hockey mask on Chases through the woods, nigga Let you have it in the hood, nigga Anywhere I'm good, nigga Off the dome, I'm on your dome Deer hunter, skin him and gut him Concrete or jungle, or the wilderness 21st Street Garden niggas some animals Eating you up alive, jumping in the frying pan I'll still fry your guts like Sizzlean Then take my medication, ain't no hesitation I been on the grizzind, pushing the lizzine Nigga don't even cross mines [Chorus] Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta [Verse 4: COS] Shit, I'm Madesicc, sick in the head, spit with the lead 'Til a nigga blood stick to the bed, zip what they said They be talking too much, they never shut up 'Til the people out there chalking 'em up Cleaning their blood up, nigga what up I nut up, I'll leave a nigga cut up I'll hit a nigga crib up or hit a nigga cut up I'll stick a nigga slut up, I'll make her spit her blood up Them niggas call me cupid, I'll split a nigga love up Put murder on a loop, I hit the loot then throw the cup up Them niggas sweet as fruit, that talking cute gon' get you fucked up I'm nothing like you, dude, I'm not a perv, I don't just flash it I pull it out and blast it 'til they're closing the casket I'll bloody up the mattress, you shouldn't play with matches That shit'll get you burned up, I'll burn your face up like some acid Tie you up in this sack zip, you niggas make me that sick Like I need extra pills and extra bottles just to hack it Or I might use the hatchet, get blood all on my jacket Then hop up in the getaway and swing it like a racket Them voices in my head just keep screaming, it's some racket And they gon' drive me crazy, double crazy, maniac-ish [Chorus] Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor? I just want you niggas to know, you got a thin roster Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta