Can't Tell Me Shit
I stop by the club, 'cause it ain't shit else to do it
I'm on the guest list, it's E-Swift plus two
Stepped to the bar, 'cause, it's a bad habit
Open mic night, so, the Liks gots to grab it
Check the mic, it sounds tight so
I guess we might rock the motherfucker all night yo
The niggas went wild, the hoes went crazy
We dropped the microphone than we Swayze
Ooh don't I sound great when I down a black eighth
My style is much hotter than the enchilada plate
My name is James but the girls call me God when I'm humpin'
I should get a gold medal for broad jumpin'
Rappers, talkin' bout, back to the old school
You never shoulda left in the first place fool
Now everybody wants to be a prophet
But I won't quit rhymin' bout my dick so get off it
You put a rhyme together but I only dismantle it
So gimme a high-five cause you juts can't handle it
If rap was a swimming pool I'd climb to the top
Plus a triple-back, hand me the mic and watch the belly flop
Dagnabit, I got a bad habit
It don't matter where I'm at I seen a booty and I grab it
So niggas step back before you get lit
I'm a grown motherfuckin' man and you can't tell me shit
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit
I rock you like Lenny Kravitz, or Nirvana
I'm puttin' suckers on pause like a comma
I never ape crazy act but I got the yapes a superhero
From the ghetto puttin' creases in my capes
(Up up up and away, J-Ro!!)
I got more hoes than a canyon got echoes
I'm rougher than Bluto, tougher than a callous
My number one football team is Dallas
Cowboys, now boys, can't you see I'm greater than
Your grandpops is my number one fan
You get ran on the court you dribble like Manute Bol
You try to take it to the hole *crowd roars* get that shit outta here
I'm more gifted than Christmas morning
I pull out a pen and write a rhyme when I'm boning
Me I'm tripping, let me light my Phillie blunt
Oh there goes my beeper, what the hell do Billy want
(Yo whassup J?] Man I quit selling weed
(No I need a funky break)
Well I got what you need
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit
You hittin' corners with the Alkies seen you pull-out 'cause you great
The crew who got another tape that's bumpin' harder, save it!
Rhythm and blues blew a fuse, and now it ain't the same
They put a lot of Funky Drummers out the game
They samplin' the fresh hip-hop breaks, just to make a hit
That's why to me, R&B, really ain't shit
So peace to all the real hip-hop niggyroles
The ones who knows about flows and rockin' shows
I want to say whats up to the ladies
I gotsta say whats up to the ladies
From the Atlantic, to the Pacific
I gotsta be specific, they know I'm terrific
I'm pushin' up to the bars, got em screamin' Alkahols
Oh gosh call me Josh cause I'm bringin' down the walls
MC extraordinaire, J-Ro came to set it straight
I never hesitate to grab the mic and meditate
In LA, most niggas walk the same
Act the same, talk the same, drive the same
Dress the same, shoot the same, fuck the same
But this is Ro and I got my own game
I drive through lyrics like I'm riding on the freeway
And I don't give rappers, no kind of leeway
Chumps be hittin' ejects cause I break necks when I flex
I be housin' mo niggas than the projects
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit
Yeah, this goes out to King Tee
DJ Pooh, yo the whole crew
Yo D-Pimp for makin' the track
That nigga Tash
Deadly Threat
This is J-Ro and E-Swift
Tha Alkaholiks, and it's like that
Autor(es): Eric L. Brooks / J-Ro / R. Smith
