S.O.B feat. Mike Shinoda - Second To None | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• S.O.B feat. Mike Shinoda
• Second To None

[ MIKE ]

It's the real authentic, leave ya'll dented,
Forget what ya heard,
If I said it, I meant it.
Did it for real, while ya'll pretended,
Back for more, startin' the war to end it.
Raw,
Rip it like you're workin' a chainsaw,
from New York to Cali, New Jersey to Crenshaw.
Speak the gift, while y'all plead the fifth,
My team is sick, we eat, sleep, and breath this shit.
Rough and rugged, kill'em soft,
we don't leave one standin', when we're breakin' 'em off.
Takin' a loss?
Not a chance in your life,
if bein' fresh is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Stop, drop and roll, we got soul,
safety popped off when we lock and load, so,
This is how we get this done,
you can check on the rep, yep, second to none.

[ CHORUS ]
Check on the rep,
second to none, yeah.

This is how we get this done,
you can check on the rep, second to none.

Check on the rep,
second to none, yeah.

This is how we get this done,
you can check on the rep, second to none.

[ RYU ]
Yo,
Check the rep, yep, nuff respect,
if not for the jewels I drop,
the chunky neck,
I'm funky fresh, equipped with a rusty Tek,
Am I the best?
Well I gotta put it bluntly, Yes.
You can't touch me, the flows'll getcha,
Squeeze breath outta ya chest, like boa constrictors.
I'm a killer, and I usually know my victims,
so I catch a lotta bodies on the homie system, uh.
Don't get it twisted, I'll break ya jaw,
you'll be sippin' fried chicken, thru a crazy straw.
Liquid diet bitch, we official pirates,
I ghost-ride the ghost ship, drinkin' and drivin', yeah.

You ain't nuthin' but a whiny kid,
who cries like a wimp, cause nobody rides with him,
I ain't a thug pimp gangsta, or grimy dun,
you can check on the rep, yup, second to none (one...)

[ CHORUS X 1]

[ TAK ]

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Bend over benz, when i step in the gate,
You can find me at the gym, bench pressin' the weight.
Gettin' deisel on that ass, and I'm so disgustin',
I'ma tell the whole god-dang globe to suck it,
I'm bad
Now you feel sumthin surround you,
My chemical mix, that gotchu pumpin' the volume.
The audience close in and then they had a reaction,
similar to explosions offa battery acid
Ma rhyme's a razor, to slash ya neck with,
So findin' ma trip pass, Winnetka Exit.
Into the dungeon, whatcha bring in the bucket?
no ones hearin' ya screams, so start playin' the trumpet.

I'm outta ya reach now, so gimme some rocket fuel,
hooked it with Beatdown, and did the impossible.
A couple a months later, the record was done,
you can check on the rep, yup, second to none.

[ CHORUS X 1]

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