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{your silence is my trade} |
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Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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I'm givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Here we go! oh no, |
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Another flow show from the young black dynamo |
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Lockin' up jaws, mcs pause - |
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No lyrical flaws |
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Hush, when the boss is talkin' |
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Lay down gats and get your weak knees walkin' |
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You ain't allowed to speak 'cause you've reached your peak |
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The elite don't get with the weak |
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Shut up, 'cause i'm burnin' this cut up |
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Boy, don't try to run up |
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'cause i chop up crops |
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A weak hip-hop boy tried to jock my spot and he flopped |
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He went down to the concrete ground |
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I'm a hound when i get down |
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And i'm back, the mack with a lyrical knack |
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To pack sacks and never pay tax |
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And when i leave they diss me |
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Knowin' they can never get with me |
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But he who laughs last gets the most cash |
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And lives the blast past of rap trash |
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Gone! left ya, son |
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Gimme a call when you're done |
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Your silence is my trade, shut up! |
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{your silence is my trade} |
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2x: |
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Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Run, run, run, your time is done, son |
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Move out for the well-hung young one |
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And i'm rackin' up stacks of greenbacks - |
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Dead presidents, black! |
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Peace to my fans and i love ya |
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And i got yo' cover |
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'cause i'm back to please |
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And cool off the hot mcs |
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'cause they're runnin' around like ants, tryin' to grab their pants |
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That shit don't make you dance! |
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What's this beat doin'? |
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Leavin' your posse ruined |
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Stuck my fist in his mouth |
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Caught him on a whole shout |
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No pity on the lyrically weak |
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Face defeat, retreat, but don't speak |
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'cause i ain't through, fool |
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And you ain't true to the mix rules! |
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You try to flow so you go for what you know |
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But yo, bro, you ain't the flow pro |
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(ohh!) i can't go slow |
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Gotta grow 'cause i wanna get mo' dough |
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Full blown, bad to the bone |
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And known to get it on with a microphone, homes |
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Leave my throne alone |
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I've been to the low zone |
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Your silence is my trade, shut up! |
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{your silence is my trade} |
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2x: |
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Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} |
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Come on, punish! |
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Punish! |
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Your host on the coast is known to boast |
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And roast most that choose to get close |
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Put 'em in a lyrical knot |
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My spot: the #1 slot |
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But i gotta have beats |
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When i lyrically de-feat the weak that try to compete |
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Get 'em up, if you wanna go head-up |
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What up? do as i instruct, black |
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'cause my gat is jack-backed |
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And lookin' at your baseball hat |
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I rolled over that mess you stole |
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And took control, and then broke the mold! |
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Now here i stand, boss man |
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The northwest tip is where i am |
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And i'm runnin' this work like dope |
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Shippin' it in planes, trains and boats |
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Up the charts i go |
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Steppin' on toes and throwin' low bolos |
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My group is large, and hard |
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No need for a bodyguard |
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We flex, rippin' off mcs' necks |
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Run 'em into critical's pecs |
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Your silence is my trade, shut up! |
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2x: |
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Lockjaw! {your silence is my trade} |
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Givin' mcs lockjaw! {your silence is my trade} |
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Come on, punish! |
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Punish 'em! |
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Punish! |
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Punish 'em! |
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Lockjaw! |
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Givin' mcs lockjaw! |
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Lockjaw! |
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Givin' mcs lockjaw! |
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Lockjaw! shhh |
