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COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Masta Ace
Writer
Lyrics
Pay homage, respect
Yeah, one-two
Acknowledge the rep
I don't know what you cats was thinking
Pay homage, respect
Must've been crazy
Acknowledge the rep
To step up on stage, at CMJ, mention my name
I hear these cats, but I ain't listenin'
A little faint dissin', a little scratch, a little paint missin'
But I still gleam and glisten, hot like a stream of piss and
I'm about to have your whole team wishin'
That you never got this shit started
You about to be dearly departed, you gotta be nearly retarded
To let me hear my name mentioned, tryna gain attention
Now I'm runnin' through this game lynchin'
And I heard a few cats tryna take shots on the low
These XFL rappers tryna fuck with a real pro
One thing; who named y'all the High and the Mighty?
To me, y'all just sound like a couple of high whities
You had to be on mad coke and ecstasy
To think for a second, you could stand next to me
Look, don't ever again mention my name in your freestyles
Or I'll cut off your transmission faster than Lee Myles
And I heard your album, this must be somethin' you're new at
'Cause I'd rather hear a Lil Wayne-Lil Zane duet
My cellphone stay ringin' like a slap in the ear
So I hope y'all don't plan on making rap a career
'Cause ever since Heav' was in Vernon, I been burnin'
Next year, y'all be up in Rawkus, internin'
And I should've let it known what your government names are
To make sure you Take It Personal like Gang Starr, motherfuckers
I got one lyric, pointed at your head for start
Another one, is pointed at your weak ass heart
And that go for any other so-called rap cats, in the game (pay homage, respect)
Acknowledge the rep
Another fake jack I slay with my spectac' rap display
And believe me, I ain't forget about him, naw
Pay homage, respect
Nope, acknowledge the rep
Just you wait
Acknowledge the rep (yo)
Yeah, I heard of the Boogieman when I was a youth, scary
Then I found out that he was as fake as a tooth-fairy
Since my last mission, this nigga's been ass-kissin'
I took a minute, I gave your single a fast listen
Tell me this, with no pot to piss in, how you dissin'?
Your group home's about to be reporting you missin'
And I don't know what was worse, the track or the verse
I'ma get to your producer, but I'm smacking you first
See I couldn't even find one nigga that heard of you
I did find a few cats that want to murder you
But I told 'em, "Chill," I let 'em know you was my son
And I promise I keep paying support 'til you're 21
Consider me the clothes on your back and a warm meal
Who knows, this might just get you a deal
And the day that your album go on sale for the first hour
Just remember, like Nas nigga, I Gave You Power
I figured I give ya some help, 'cause you need lots
I make your producer change his name to Speed Nottz
Tell him I say fuck him for doin' the tracks
Matter of fact, fuck Fat Beats, for doin' the wax
I'ma diss you via e-mail and then through a fax
I'ma diss you by two-way, I ain't gon' never relax
I'ma diss you over fast, slow track or no track
If your shit wasn't so wack, I'd diss you to your track
You that little fish that I catch and I throw back
And by the way, give 50 Cent his flow back
You that cat in the club that get hit with a bottle
Fuckin' with me, you better off tryin' to hit lotto
And don't answer back, this is hard shit to follow
And you can't spit nigga, so you obviously must swallow
Motherfucker
Pay homage, respect
I got one lyric, pointed at your head for start (yeah)
Another one, is pointed at your weak ass heart
Boogieman, Boogieman, what's wrong?
I figured out everybody you know better (pay homage, respect)
Made you sound like a fan and everything
You know you was dancing and singing my shit back in the day
Tryna front on me
You should know the student can't fuck with the teacher
(Acknowledge the rep)
I tell you what, after the rap beef shit dry off for you
And all this hype I gave you wear off
Come see me, I'll make you my hype man
And work on some steps, 'cause I'ma make you my dancer too
And um, far as battling goes
C'mon man, I can't earn no stripes battling you
Tell you what, you can get at me after you sell like one record
And I'll break that ass, nigga
Don't ever front on me, nigga
Writer(s): Duval A. Clear, Thomas Raic
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