You Won't

"Fuck that, look at him, he’s nothing. The guy’s a piece of shit." "You got a cigarette?" "Jesus Christ, you killed, you fuckin-a killed him, he’s dead" Haha, Diabolic, Asmatic, Cop Shop, Breath Easy Productions We putting it down Triple Optix, Falling Angels, Foul Play We ain’t fucking around [Verse 1:] All I hear is cats runnin’ off at the mouth When they don’t know what the fuck they talkin’ about And Bolic show y’all, busting off a gat or two ‘Til I catch a few bullets and throw ‘em back at you Don’t believe me, holla at me when you’re passing thru 1Huntington Station, 16th and New York Avenue I’ll be there drunk, making fun of their songs And ran for ‘em like H.I.V. airborn I stand strong giving y’all faggots the truth Clowning cats over what Asmatic produced See Bolic never hesitate to say that you’re wack Give my opinion, but now I’m a hater for that In my mind all I’m doing is stating the facts That I don’t believe shit that you say in your raps But I can’t lie dawg, I’m still playing your tracks So I can get a good laugh at the way that you act Chorus: You won’t, do the shit you say in your songs Ain’t nobody here playing along You won’t, do shit about me saying it I’m Diabolic, who the fuck you think you playing with [2X] [Verse 2:] Okay, yo, I smoke a pack a day, plus eight blunts With the breath control of eight lungs attached to the same tongue I ate crumbs, paid dues, and made moves Then made your wife give me pussy and brain too If you meet me, I ain’t no shameless actor I’ll go from your favorite rapper to most hated after I ain’t faking jacks to gain a fan base I’m drinkin’ patron, spittin’ in a fan’s face I can’t take all these cats ?? and watch ‘Til I make them buy my album then buy me a shot I’ve got my hands full of cards you can’t pull So I pop shit, like Ja Rule’s stool sample I laugh at hype, ’cause when I grab the mic I got these pussies on my dick like hermaphrodites You faggots write lies when you go in the booth Well I’m right here drunk still knowing the truth [Chorus] [Verse 3:] I don’t know what’s worse, Eminem sayin’ some thug raps Or having to deal with Mace makin’ a comeback Everybody touch gats, and have to say they pull it Couldn’t bust a shot, ejaculating bullets Now the game’s alligator shirts and trucker hats And I’m on the sideline, like what the fuck is that You’ll get stuck for stacks, yeah I’ll run your pockets Now go tell all your friends you got sunk by Bolic Gotta gun then pop it, if not stop lying I never believe you’d actually pop iron I don’t give a fuck like a prostitute If you claim to cock and shoot with cops in hot pursuit I’m the top recruit, taking over the game You don’t know shit about me, all you know is my name Diabolic, mothafuckers know I’ve been raw When I begin tour do a cop shop in store [Chorus]