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Move Ya Body lyrics
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The mack back in action show skills when I speak Watch my - leak when I bring it to your face I still corner dimes, but in the nine I’m on a paper chase Glass rocks, mega tops, tims on your block Holding heat like crock pots and keeping g’s in my socks (so, what’s up, hopps? ) I got to keep it tight like seams ’cause ain’t no fiends Coming in between me and my dreams See what I mean, black? I keep it real like that F a word is bond I need stocks and bonds from these ill raps Rappers won’t see me with contacts, friend So, please act you’ve got a siamese twin and think again ’cause in the end I start off with flavor Next to bless your chest with freestyle fantasia Smooth behavior Seeing rappers as illusions Meaning they disappear but I’m hear to keep you moving Chorus: Everybody, move ya body! Everybody, move ya body! Everybody, move ya body! I don’t think twice, kid You know I bring it to ya live (repeat) See, I don’t get writer’s block Yo, I block other writers And there’s been nights I had to wear sniper attire for biters Don’t make that same mistake and get scarred, retard I see that tape you listening to got you thinking that you hard But dig this... Cut your hair and get your name on your stomach I still find ways to make your whole rap career plummet Maintain I steal mics out of the frame But now people think they know me ’cause they know my real name While I stay same Doing shows and tours Somewhere in a phat crib(? ) playing sega in the dashboard Styles of sword(? ) and flowing steadily Trapping mcs in mazes forever like frankie beverly You know the steeze I’m bringing beats to they knees Holacausting mcs and sees some g’s before I breath That’s how it be It’s no doubt that i Got to bring it to your chest as I bring it to ya live Chorus So, from this point on until the day that they bury me I’ll still be on a hunt trying to snatch this currency Putting my peeps on while friends turn fake They get pissed thinking I be in switzerland checking some real estate Dropping lps every year Somewhere in a mansion with a butler named vincent jeffrey belvadere I’m rare But, rappers ain’t trying to hear The reason why their girl freestyled her number in my ear It’s my year, son, and I ain’t trying to slip I’m trying to collect props and get not(? ) to stretch money clips Honey-dips I keep ’em on like low end So, f five-o Illegal, so we don’t got to go there It’s so unfair How I do wack crews shady They want to be next up Their style sucks like a new baby They can’t faze me Mics and man fusion Beats I keep bruising Do your thing and keep moving Chorus (repeat twice)  More Mad Skillz Song Lyrics
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