Make `em Pay Lyrics

Make `em Pay lyrics

featuring Krumb Snatcha

[Guru]
First and foremost some rappers are
sweet like fructose
When I cock back these lyrics y'all punks best be
ghost
I be the seven twenty one eighteen twenty one
The illest one I'm
almost doper than anyone
Straight out the late nights of Bed Stuy
Steppin
up y'all put your weapons up I make heads fly
You're artificial like
saccarhin
You're crazy fake it's more than skills you be lackin
in
Concepts you bite, cause your identity ain't tight
Tryin to be
somethin you're not, like pullin a knife at a gunfight
I'm troopin on night
air like flight number 106
and gettin all up in your fuckin mix
You get
me upset, and I got you uptight
cause my committee's in your city tonight,
AIGHT?
We got seventeen million of us plus, two million Indians
That
makes 19 mil, lightin shit up like Wild Bill
I be the, supreme father plus
the ill kid with drama
My karma, creates the teflon to pierce your body
armor
And make sure you check the shit before you walk to me, or talk to
me
Steppin to me improperly, you just may catch the weaponry
My specialty
is tearin tracks out the frame
You know my fuckin name, I rule all
game
I'm universal on all planes, what's your claim?

[Guru]
Yo, I
be your highness, in slickness, you chumps bear witness
Tremendous tropper,
verbal nigga witht he fitness
Drop you for your spot with the blazer then I
blast ya
Slice precise like ?fenny hanas? when I come to bring the
dramas
Styles so swift, that you can't peep the God
as your lyrics get
buried, six feet deep in my backyard
I laugh hard, while your mental I run
through mazes
Dark stages of terror to shatter your dressing room
mirror
Your whole error gets crushed, your whole show gets bumrushed
Too
many dumb punks, want to enter this rap scene
Kickin Willie Bobo, but need
to be slapped clean
into oblivion, the true champion always rises
I bring
surprises to the chief plus their advisers
Size me up, and you will find
nothing's larger
Catch more wreck on your dome, than a deranged fuckin
barber
So what you made some dough, you best keep on scramblin
All your
vanity, is instantly crushed, when I start handlin
Demandin that you pay,
for your weak rhyme display
Coast to coast, I break the fakes
everyday

[Krumb Snatcha]
I see myself as the black Rap
Messiah
Colossal spreadin my gospel through electrical wires
Spit fire
through speech, so I can reach each and every
Tom Dick and Jerry slippin
like petroleum jelly
Too busy in the limelight, can't rhyme tight
I got
divine right to bring y'all to light
Somethin ain't right, to be an MC, you
gotta thug
Or to thug you gotta be an MC, this shit is bugged
Show love
but few; deal with crew and crew only
And think universal like Sony
Phony
pounds and fake hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Pizza Hut I got to
stay Noyd-ed
Cause that same nigga you trust, could be that same
cat
behind that gat that bust, quiet ya, with the silencer
Keep it hush,
ashes to dust, then dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who pull out the fastest,
imagine this
rap shit without this gat shit, or the phony cat
in black
talkin bout how much his Mac spit
But this year, GangStarr got changes bein
made
No wack shit bein played no fake macks gettin paid
No Versace MC's,
with a mouth full of Mo'
Soundin like a hoe spittin that old-fashioned show
flow
I bombshell that pastel Chanel rap through a Maxwell
Ever since
young Krumb, was taught to rap well
Goin deep, process of thought, when my
eyes closes
Awaken with interpretive robe and sandals like
Moses
Travellin high sands and Eastern lands for the answers
Ignorance is
spreadin through the streets like it was cancer
Too many drinkin not thinkin,
when behind that trigger
A 38 escalate the murder rate, for us niggaz
it's
like, microphone roulette cause nowadays MC's is gettin wet
over someone
else's fake gangsta rep