ShamanOfSexy RL BF of HeartxCore702's blog: "Lyrics"

My time is now like John Cena/ A rare rapper who's cleana/ Then a bottle of Aquafina/ But still a beast on the mic, no one's meana/ & yes yes I'm white, let the jokes begin/ Still get more pussy then attached lesbians/ It don't matter about my clothes or the car I be in/ Just matters what I do with this paper & pen/ I'm the kinda dude that goes on ego trips/ Doesn't care when a skeeo splits/ Cuz his futures brighter then casino strips/ Call em what you want, but I've written more essays then latino clicks/ & you have the nerve to step to my face/ I'm an easy slaughter, I only write rhymes for Myspace/ So win or lose I'ma still take ya girl to my place/ Give it up cuz you can't stay at my pace/ Write rhymes behind my back, but can't say them to my face/ Cuz you're scared of what I'll do, so I commend you/ I understand you don't wanna mess with the dude that would defend you/ So here's the plan, it's simple & easy/ Go your way, I'll go mine, it'll work believe me/ You might of been Deadly but I was the Ent. ya see/ The original master of ceremonies/ Ya'll just a pair of phoneys/ Ain't shit without ya homies/ & I sware they ain't ya friends, they just hired cronies/ Bomber's a real MC on the mic I move the crowd/ I do what I do best & I do it proud/ Most of ya'll is hard of hearin so I'ma have to say it loud/ What you did I hope you are proud/ But it was for the best because 1 is great & 3 was a crowd//

My rhymes stick to your head like a New Era/ Roll with no squad but I still bring terror/ A New Yorker with a LV Gladiator state of mind/ Bumpin your shit, so don't hate on mine/ But it doesn't phase me, it's just gunna take ya time/ & time is a precious thing to waste/ Got a 9 on each side of my waist/ To blow off each side of ya face/ Which would be a valuable thing to lose/ Don't need to run with any crews/ You don't wanna live a day in these size 9 shoes/ Neither red or blues/ Just another stat on the news/ All they report is death, anything else rarely/ All ya homies cuttin out ya obituary/ No drugs for me, but I can get you dimes & nickels like the tooth fairy/ You'z an ugly fuck & ya rhymes are scary/ Mine are as good lookin as Tyra Banks/ I'm gunna hand you a beat down, no required thanks/ & you can take that to the entire bank//

Bomber's the franchise like a NY Knickerbocker/ You know the dude that has rhymes with more kicks then soccer/ Pick any girl in the room & I can cop her/ You say the one with the tight jeans & the white sweater/ Easily gotten, no need to floss my cheddar/ Call my Young Jeezy cuz I'ma Go Get-Her/ She's easily attracted, I'm a flow spitter/ & a rhyme writer/ Not a rhyme biter/ But I will bite her/ Totally excite her/ But definitely not wife her/ Gave her the digits then she closed the door/ Left the crib at 3, called me at 4/ I said, "Damn what a groupie whore"/ Wanted to come out with me on tour/ I said "No babe there's no room for you"/ She said "That's OK, let's have another rendezvous"/ That's when I realized this chick is glued/ She was kinda good lookin but I didn't wanna be rude/ So instead of sayin anything, I changed my number, got my ass up & moved/

Call my verses cooked crack, cuz these are heat rock I make/ listening to them over & over will brainwash & intoxicate/ the hood rappin non boarder, but these blocks I skate/ handin out my cds, the true definition of "drop some weight"/ half'll keep it, half'll throw it away, no worries, I love to cop the hate/ but rest assured if you threw it away I will plot ya fate/ I'm that rapper you should be listening to, there's not too much on ya plate/ Mike Jones flow, call me up, 702-232-2438/ I said, Mike Jones flow, call me up, 702-232-2438/ Nahh I don't gotta stoop to that level, cuz this kid is fire/ Unsigned artist lookin for someone to show me the money like Jerry Maguire/ but they only grab artists these days that rarely inspire/ I'm the typea dude that'll make ya retire/ go back to your small town and rejoin the church choir/ & I won't stop til I'm the king of this whole empire//

Stab ya man's, so that his blood'll squirt/ Get the syrup, like my bitch is Mrs. Butterworth/ We gets the syrup, not the coughin kind/ Call me Jay-Z, cuz this cities mine/ The troubled clique, problems we just stir up/ No 9's & shit, we just cop the syrup/ You just keep talkin, all I hear is blabbin/ We lives in Las Vegas, but we fucks with Log Cabin/ Not just the name brands, generic'll work on my french toast/ We movin units, ya'll just stuck like a fencepost/ I know we makin money, that makes ya crew hurt/ Cuz we live by 1 rule, make sure we do work/ You fuck with us, that's a sticky situation/ We got people on the strip, with syrup bottles waitin/ With my man 5th El, he's that dude behind the beat/ & the topic of this song, ain't the reason that it's sweet/

Where I come from there's no exit signs/ && you can take what you want, unless it's mine/ I've been blessed with time/ && Bronx Bomber's a name you'll always remember/ hot as a Las Vegas September/ && I don't mean the weather/ with rhymes so cold, you'll need 2 sweaters/ ya'lls lame lines are Fabolous, they make me better/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Some days'll never be the same/ bitches playin the same ol games/ 5 foot 7 inch frame/ LV, DW is the click I claim/ Bronx Bomber be the name/ take you out & swoop ya dame/ That's crazy insane/ or insane crazy/ don't smoke but my life's all hazy/ fucked from that 2 Pac & Jay-Z/ today's rappers are all lazy/ lookalike but nothing like shady/ was a real good 80s baby/ actually knew my family, no broken home/ growing up, had to bust some domes/ always protected myself, never with the chrome/

You won't find my job in the classifieds/ && you ain't in the same class as mine/ I only rap to pass the time/ I just bullshit, laugh and rhyme/ you talking about ya life of crime/ and all these drugs like you was CVS/ I rap with ice in my vains, never see me stress/ and that's why ya'll envy me/ highest paid on the roster like I was "MVP"/ and ya'll will never for-get me/ half man, half amazing/ come out, lyrical guns a blazing/ on the sidelines watchin all ya moves like it was spy gate/ knowin you jocking my style, get ya lies straight/ everything you stand for I hate/ I sell out crowds, you a low PPV buy rate/ live for myself, you won't determine my fate/ && I ain't done til everything's off my plate/

Ya'll still can't tell me nothin right/ don't need to be packin to know Rogue Status tight/ can't be a runnin joke my whole life/ haters like Beyonce to the left & the right/ knowin I'm as fly as a kite/ no jewels still bright as a light/ doin shit I hate just to spite/ going to the next room thinkin it's still right/ hearin you clearly, you ain't foolin me/ didn't go to college boy you ain't schoolin me/ give you an inch you take a mile thinkin you rulein me/ useda get me Amped now you ain't Mountain Dewin me/ do I look like Home Depot boy you ain't screwin me/ I'm like GPS, stay ahead of the game/ know all ya moves thought you was better then dames/ just another Jordan wannabe clone like LeBron James/ life's just a big fire & you smokin it away/ now did that last line just blow your mind/ man I wanna go fast like Ricky Bobby when I rhyme/ && you just Cal Naughton in my rear view/ can't be two number 1's so you'll always be number 2//

For me there's no need to tote glocks/ I talk shit, walk hard like Dewey Cox/ kiddie days were the only time I touched the rocks/ Amare Stoudemire, work hard to rep my block/ just need Steve Nash to pass me the beats/ but I'm justa writer don't need to rap for these streets/ && I ain't D-Wade man, I never played with the heat/ useda know cats that thought it was cool to know me/ until they thought I was a 1 man team like Kobe/ now I'm all alone, but like Greg Oden I blaze trails/ put me on a record, man you'll raise sales/ call me RVD, I'm the whole fuckin show/ && I'ma keep rapin til I can't stand it no fuckin mo/ cuz I'm dedicated to this shit like the UBW/ your reply's let me know that this shit troubles you/

This past year I probably made a few thousand mistakes/ but shit'll be different in the year 2008/ more then likely a new thousand will hate/ Ima just do my job, make my rounds, no debate/ like I was a presidential candidate/ solid platform && a plan of fate/ for every man and mate/ that I can stand or hate/ but the later isn't really how I operate/ never plan on living my life as a failure/ minding my own business end up dead like Sean Taylor/ man, I couldn't bear it like Baylor/ so, from now on everyday for me is a "Victory"/ be nice to every dick I see/ cuz they can't do shit to me/ but I attract all their tips to me//