6 Shooter

Lyrics

[Intro: Busta Rhyme, Purpose] Yo, this joint right here is dedicated To all the ma'fuckers who fell off, ha (Yeah) And the ma'fuckers who's about to fall off (P, uh) [Verse 1: Purpose] It's uh, Mr 'If The-If The City Had A' Turn the bass up till the place jump and the window shatter Miss me with the banter, my man, I been a factor The benefactor with ink - your man's the missing chapter Phizzle, this a banger, Illy let's get it crackin' Twist the fabric of time with a rhyme, my style is systematic I scribble something so ill you wish that you didn't catch it Twist a fat one and sprinkle this here with a little magic When you and your friends rhyme, it's bedtime, I'm snorin' Whether or not I headline, yes, I'm supporting Flavour drip through the speaker when I'm recording If charisma's a disease, I could be dead by the morning (Woo) My man, we are the entire fuck out here Lights up, Ryan's up, fire up the sound gear Been accused of the recklessness, but I don't dispute the evidence I just reload the clip and shoot the messenger [Verse 2: J. Stark] Hey, it's that bloke from the water's edge One stroke gets your daughter wet You're gettin' served like you haven't ordered yet I score a rep by putting verses in the morgue Till my services are more sought after than a whore's I'm getting plenty, buddy, how you getting yours? I'm getting paid the pen and page, add a little more We smack a stage till it needs to be restored And I do this shit because I love it, not because I'm bored Moved away from Beauy, but it's pumping through my heart Now I represent the Frankston line and going fucking hard Aiming for the stars, been rolling from the start Now I'm sharing tracks with motherfuckers holding golden plaques Braithwaite Steeze, Wild animal mentality And haters getting mad at rappers doubling their salary They're talking shit, I ain't hearing what they telling me The colour that they seeing's greener than a stick of celery Celery [Verse 3: Bitter Belief] Yeah Introductions aside, you askin' who am I? I'm the owner of a gallery, your tour guide And you can leave with stained shirts 'Cause tryna understand how my brain works is suicide I got a beautiful mind covered in sewer slime And if you look a little closer there's a clue inside To get past the putrid grime like few have tried Then you could possibly ruin your eyes Am I crazy? You decide All I know is my rhymes are so pimped that I write them in a suit and tie I'm Superman flying through the sky But you guys wouldn't recognise a hero in a new disguise Life's like shooting the dice or gambling But you just rambling, standing with your hand on the mic I ain't battling an amateur, get your calibre right I'll leave you pussies afraid like you're Hannibal's wife [Verse 4: Raven] Check the floodgates (what) that door needs closing shut They're like a fuckface in porn scenes, I know they suck Put 'em on parole so they can walk free to go get fucked Get your own style 'cause y'all seem to be clones of us With no character, boring stoner cunts It's so embarrassing, it's like the Portuguese showing up The Spanish with Brazil, the whole East is owned by us I have 'em crashing at will like torpedoes blowing up (boom) Hit the battleship and all fleets that floated sunk Quicker than a cattle whip on raw meat drove to cuts The prodigal son, since fourteen token bud Still tropical sun with tall trees and coconuts My art sells for peanuts like poor street folk that busk The Cartel Team bust with more heat than smoking guns (blam) One of the finest, If you fought me you only just survived if you're Irish Four-leaf clover luck [Verse 5: Prime, Illy] Uh If you were gifted, then it musta been a lump of coal But still, you're full of yourself like one of them Russian dolls If you're shootin' for the top, you should adjust the goals If I walked a mile in your shoes, it would crush my soul Saw you live, who would pay though to book ya? If you tried to get some girls there, then they overlooked ya Men, men, men like that lame show with Kutcher Total sausage fest like a trade show for butchers Uh, this is Adelaide talkin', I'm an animal coursin' Through my preys, natural habitat stalkin' Just hungry, if there's beef, then I'm jabbin' my fork in At the mere fuckin' mention of a battle, they walkin', uh And if not, then they got more than your standard death wish Weird, most of them are sweeter than a candy necklace Always got somethin' left to write like I was ambidextrous (Yeah) And if my music's declined, how come my fans accept it? (Yeah) [Verse 6: Illy] Chopping up with blunt papes, rocking with a verse Hopping off the runway, dropping in a vert Either way I'm rolling, optimal at worst You ain't seeing me unless you got binoculars at work (bi-atch) But don't get mad about it, be a man about it Chin up, its brand-spanking steeze, hand back the hand-me-downers Swap those rhymes and swallow pride They still payin' dues off 'em on borrowed time (Yeah) And cue my flows monsoon shit You pals dog food, barking up the wrong eucalypt Six-shooters, grip mics We see red and blast like a Hoover crip Higher than thread counts on your goose-down dooners, bitch It's big kahuna shit, and I ain't heard of you Small fries in big towns, man up or sit down Mercenary spits, hired guns on the disc, bound To kill by the contract, and keep putting hits out