Sean Price - Slap Boxing Lyrics

(feat. Rock, Ruste Juxx)

[Sean Price]
My son got a gun, I say shoot, that's where the gat'll spray
Make these faggot niggaz go that a way, run
Your fab five is jumping, big knives, guns, bats and sticks
F*ck all that rapping shit
Give a f*ck about your bar with the verse, put pa in a hearse
Best bet is throw your car in reverse
You can act up if you want, clapped up in ya front
Pull ya chest and ya back, skit left hooded laugh
Y'all niggaz do the row when I rhyme
Matter fact use a gun when I rhyme, yo
I throw shots from the back of the rover
Chickenwing Bob Backlund, that tag on your sofa
Niggaz actin' like they don't know Sean, til I
Run up on 'em, smack 'em up with the fo'fo nam
Focus the fire, throw shots, hopin' you die smokin'
Alot after the toast is retired, motherf*cker

[Rustee Juxx]
Yo, f*cking with Juxx, you already know what crime it is
Hard body beat breaking, that's what kinda rhyme it is
Kingston Ave., you already know who grind it is
Black beretta, special opt, that's what kinda nine it is
Body the wax, first I grab 'em by the neck
Then I throw the sawed shotty to back
Cold blooded, black hearted, swing the mac retarded
My weed clientele, excel my crack market
Shawshank swangeler, monster track mangler
Wild cowboy, two hosters on my wrangler's
Barbarian, I'm a savage, street viking
Bullet street striking, faster than grease lightning
Spit volcano, rain, hail, fire
Cuz misery sell millions, and pain sell hater
Fiend for the foam, my throne is indestructable
Niggaz like 'word, son, them niggaz cant f*ck with
you'

[Rock]
Aiyo, I shake the ground when I walk
I mean I shake the town when I walk
Flip pound and lay you down for your thoughts
Lay you on the ground with your thoughts
Have your thoughts all over the ground in the park
Make a sound when I talk
Shhhh, it is the greatest, underrated MC
Niggaz hate but don't say it to me
They get chased in a tree
The moves you make in the piece
Ready to get Jason to be like - damn
keep these niggaz away from the grease, please
Bad news, gun click; you die, yo
You want good news, switch to Geico
A nigga fight me gettin his eye closed
And his shine stole, not you pa, your shit rhinestones
Think I don't know huh? Your jewelry corny
It's cornier than cream corn and your team corny
Ya whole fleet boring, born with a heat seaking pistol
Locked on nigga jaw piece
For talking that 'I can give and talk and see'
Boy something like a phenomenon
That's why, some shit's like a feel arm my strong
It's like the "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous"
Bitch, they get used to rhyme and stunt, they wanna give it the anus
And bring it down, now, wow, how bout
F*ck it, let 'em chow down on dick with sauerkraut
Whyle out, have it come to the heaters, down South
Roundhouse, any bitch, you get caught in the Brown Brown
Brownsville!