U-God - Supa Freak (Wildstyle) Lyrics

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Artist:	U-God
Song Title:	Supa Freak (Wildstyle)
Visits:	765

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f/ Leatha Face

[Intro: Leatha Face]

Get 'em...

Supa freak, freak, freak, freak, freak

Freak, freak, freak, freak

[Leatha Face]

So you wanna be the man with the gun in your hand

The Son of Sam, expand shells, invades where you dwell

The smell of rigger mortis, corpses, enforces

That they become victim to homicide resources

Minor league bosses, petty cash crimies

Snatch your dime piece, leak where my mind speaks

Short circuit the mini time piece, pretty nine squeak

The echo travels the city night streets

[U-God]

Yeah, hit-hit new release, guaranteed to hit the streets

Rhyme-rhyme all the time, never ever drop a dime

Stop-stop doin' crime, first one to pop the nine

Rave that I throw the shine, up your back then your spine

Bad-bad, super bad, always first, never last

Swift-swift, swifter blast, hit 'em with the iron fast

Throw 'em in a body cast, sweat burnin' in the gas

Set fire to the ash, smoked in his liver, grass

[Chorus 2X: Leatha Face]

Dirty, grimey, low down, shiesty

Freaky, feisty, hood rat from the hood

(Supa freak, freak, freak, freak, freak

Freak, freak, freak, freak)

[Leatha Face]

Snap screen shots of the wild life chronicles

Head spin similar to theme park roller coasters

The solo holster straps, laser beam glocks

Steamin' hot, blow your snot box, the hottest psyche particles

Barbecue, flame boiled crooks, soap by the hooks

Splash brain from the wild frame notebooks

Son, you so shook, I murder your gimmick

Take you to the climb, back to drop, vertical limit

[U-God]

Yeah, ball playin' girl lane, on the mic I'm rhyme sprayin'

M.C. rock viciously, satisfaction guaranteed

Or you get your money back, leave your girl, that's a wrap

Hit spike like a bat, heel toe, now I tap

Second round, second left, in your town, check it, check

Cock the beretta back, where my money at?

Smack off your funny hat, always come in super jive

Lamp in the honey hive, man on the ziggy side

[Chorus 2X]

[Leatha Face]

Pop headphones, glide over metro domes, ride, enter the zone

Open wide, head blown, hell fire, lead bone

Self fly spread, chrome you're live by a man's dome

Divine burns your skin tone, high with the trench stone

Blood money leakin' out my pockets, complex, unidentified flyin' objects

Comin' at you with 3D, scratch it with CD's

That take a sharp head bangers, state of the art

[U-God]

Yo, dip to the dot, dot to the dip

Make the fly girls wanna turn your hips

Raps on the juggle, double up quick

Bullets rip, I burn the whole clip

Cause the long eyelids point to your lips

To the walls I stick, with my Spiderman grip

Fully action pump grip, jump swift

Blow you the bitch, shorty, use and you miss

[Chorus 4X]

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