Rap Game Travolta (Chris Horrell Remix)

Lyrics

[Verse 1: K21] Just call me K, let me talk my smack Handle minds, I do it all like that Let loose on a troop till he falls right back The one man army kickin' war time rap Just Pulp Fiction, not a story track Till the truth is here and they're taught the math But before all that I'm sure you'll add it up By the time Faint One's gonna scratch the cut The promoters said, "Next track, you're up" "Who, me? Ha, nah, where's your head at? I'm not playin' till I get a bowl of green M&M's And Headlock and Kirk bring the Premium Blend back" Another rugrat who leaped from the pen Crawled to the club, now I'm gonna leave with a ten pack Dead that, I'ma leave to invent tracks That'll make your head crack with no lead bat Putt fire in the sky, call me Deodato With a baby-face, it ain't Leonardo, but Everything I utter on a beat's staccato With an appetite that'll eat your half-notes Make iller-noise, never seen Chicago Moon cans I'm rocking fresh off the crater So your special move won't ever do a thing When I react and I'm comin' with a combo breaker (combo breaker) Now say goodnight Save the encore and fade the lights Terminate every name on sight When the day goes night I'ma make it right Do it even if doesn't make a right Although still I ain't lying dormant And I ain't livin' by the book 'Cause I'd rather be livin' it like an author, say it [Chorus: Guru] "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lost—get lost" "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lost" "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lost" "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lo—lo—lo—lost" [Verse 2: K21] Solemnly sold my soul Ain't something that you'd fix with solder Live that Martian life, that's why every year I manage to get colder Every—every other rapper that'll talk that smack Like, "Man, his style is old" I made a peace sign, turned it round for Then started dancing like Travolta D—D—Dancing like Travolta But, but I take to the heart like Uma Went on tour with the Hoods, twenty shows And I roll around with the same nasty Pumas Still, half cyborg, half producer With no heart to lose, that would be hard to do So if I ain't the number one, I'm on the path to soon 'Cause I'm assuming the position like Kama Sutra And I ain't slowin', how? I just go all out And never know the round or throw the towel You're over now whenever I roam the town I'ma make 'em all scream like Rose McGowan That Conan sound I only wrote to pound So profound, from the coast I'm bound to be the dopest found And to the centre too, I'm unforgettable To every fool up on a pedestal I'll throw them down Oh, what's now? Straight in the door, comin' through, run it with the misfits And all these other motherfuckers wanna hate And get all mad at me because they think I stuck it in their missus Here's a funnel you can piss in And wear my shoes if you really think you're runnin' in my distance Try and gun it like a piston I wish you all the best, can a motherfucker get a witness? [Chorus: Guru] "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lost—get lost" "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lost" "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lost" "You could say I'm sorta the boss, so get lo—lo—lo—lost" [Verse 3: Mac Lethal] Remix! It's a double V bitch, Vince and Vega Got Pulp Fiction in the VCR Gonna pull [?] on a motherfucker If you wanna be asshole and key my car [?] Benz, got a little madman In a hot syringe, so when the cops come in I'm killing every motherfucker ever had it out me [?] a whore [?] throw 'em off the balcony Get back, I'm gorgeous, I'm thinkin' that Meth lab's enormous, gonna pull the trigger Shoot you in the face and put your motherfuckin' body Up in dead rapper storage You fuckin' idiot, I see you brought a gun but my sword is better But you took a lot of money out my pocket [?] you better leave a letter [?] just go down like butch, givin' oral pleasure To the goddamn European chick with the accent Shimmy, shimmy your butt, gimme, gimme the fuck I mean I had it with the god damn trap shit Meanwhile [?] she a bad bitch Sixty-two [?] [?] of a Big Kahuna burger Give me the feeling, you never hurt a [?] Like I'm Hillary Clinton usin' a server that's illegal They could blow your brains out, give me hella knowledge Get yourself demolished, got a couple motherfuckers Walkin' 'round with my soul in a black briefcase Like Marsellus Wallace And the code is six-six-six Band-Aid on the back of my neck I rap for respect, you don't wanna take it outside You stay indoors like the back of a cheque Solemnly sold my soul, pull my car right out for profit I just bought your fuckin' life, take the money out my wallet Listen truly, I'm the shepherd, you're the sheep I like rappers like my steak Bloody as hell with Salt-N-Pepa on the beat Give it to make like that, anybody fight back? I'll blam 'em in the shoulder Stuck the needle in my arm and started dancin' like Travolta I'm so motherfuckin' handsome and I'm older Than all you little bitches [Outro: Guru] "You could say I'm sorta the boss"