Batter Proof (100%)

[Intro: King Just] Yo, everything's real here I sweare, the proof is in the batter Batter proof, a hundred percent real Killa Hill, 10304, back to settle the score Yo, back me up, yo, back me up, yo, back me up, yo Killa Hill, Killa Hill, Killa Hill, Killa Hill [Chorus: King Just] Yo, it really doesn't matter, how I make something phatter Cuz the proof is in the batter, everytime you climb the ladder Got to make, something better, when it comes to getting cheddar Yo, they thought they'd have me locked down forever, never [King Just] I am here, so all raise your hands and cheer Hallelujah, cuz this one here just might do ya Not Rick the Ruler, but yo, I talk "Slick" Not that gay shit, but on my own dick Don't like potatoes, but yo I get chips And don't like bitches with hips, and no tits Thirty six C's, with cheese and foreign V's Who love, with hustlers, gangstas and common thieves I promise these rhymes be the ones you appreciate We start the grands, indeed, and so, tell 'em to vacate Set a date, mayday, mayday Similar to Tyson, baby, I want the payday From here to L.A., still rock my Pele Pele And I ain't try'nna hear what the fuck you wanna tell me Sell me your lies and call your alibies Want a, piece of the pie, without lifting a finger to try Your mind is out your ego, off the hook like a receiver You should of paid attention when Rakim said "follow the leader" Ask me, the Hill eater, cuz yo, I ain't Feeling like Shaquille, all in the paint, over think With a tank like No Limit, no gimmicks, raw lyrics That's why you can tell the difference, every time you hear this The weirdest, that ever put the mic in my clutch One of the best, when it fucking came to the guts It's all about such-and-such, so what, them niggas suck In the cut, when the mask, what, held you up Shit out of luck, with nowhere to go, on the low Like Fidel Castro, unlimited cash flow, yo [Chorus 2X] [King Just] Had to see you sweat, and no talk about begets And still get the same respect that all these rappers get It finally happened, we were known on the Staten But all these, killas and biz, take the fun out of rapping Instead of clapping they pack, instead of packing, they clap you One for to over reacting, I'm asking Why we can't all just all get along, raised in the ghetto Singing survival songs of the dawn I bomb like a terrorist across seas, let it be on Your P's and Q's, cuz I don't plan to lose to MC's Nigga please, it's a done deal, sixty four mil man, yo I wanna feel like your Earth feels Run up in your fortune, and all I, caught was the vein Was it, the love of money, or the, love of the game All the same when it comes to eat, all my hungry niggas Stay on the low, and the, heat on the streets Even though they watching, ain't no stopping, we still copping The hundred G profit, with an overseas market The target, the top ten, Mr. Choke On Baby doll, you can't stop him [Chorus 2X] [Outro: King Just] You can't stop me, signing off Mr. Choke On, will choke on Mr. Choke On, will choke on Mr. Choke On, will choke on Until I become a living legend, dead and gone Mr. Choke On, will choke on Mr. Choke On, will choke on Mr. Choke On, will choke on Until I become a living legend, dead and gone