M-3 (Anger)

[Intro] Okay since you paid for the meal, I'm gonna throw in my tip But normally, I wouldn't do this [Murs] Never mind what your normally do, someone shoulda warned you But then again, my style - too sick to predict Kinda like that "Emergency Broadcast" shit, before the earthquake hit But this is a test to see how long you'll shut the fuck up and listen To the statement of my mission (you sit quiet) Now that I got your attention There's no-thing I think I would never say From one of the dopest crews out the Bay So what's that I heard you say? Fool when I call your name you'll know it Always been a man before a poet So I never been in the habit of backstabbin Only got 3 problems, beadies alcohol and mic grabbin So if I smile in your face Know that if I wanted it I would take yo' place Once again the G the way the only way I know how Only got one question after I rock your set Who the fuck wanna flow now?! [Hook: Murs] No matter how you try you ain't fuckin with me By just breathin air I diss sucker MC's And no matter how you try you ain't fuckin with us Cause if you about fresh shit, then you stuck with us No matter how you try you ain't fuckin with me By just breathin air I diss sucker MC's And no matter what you make, you ain't fuckin with us Cause when you eliminate the fake, then you stuck with us [Murs] Oh you heard you could rap, but from what I hear You would get served and slapped by any one of my crew members Do you remember who wrote the book, on this underground way of livin? We do more than you do with a whole day after midnight Deliver dope shit for the love like midwifes Doin what the fuck I want now to avoid that crisis at mid-life Mid-City life creates a doper MC; when yo' record's in the crate Next to my shit, you still ain't comin close to me Better than you'll ever hope to be, shoppin yo' demo at 33 Instead of bein the man you supposed to be Musta lost yo' mind tryin to find that easy money And the college MC's? Oh these niggas funny! When you was studyin for yo' SAT, I was out bein a fresh MC So why you tryin to run up on me? Don't you know my crew smack toys What the fuck it look like, me a hip-hop scholar Up against a frat boy? [Hook] [Murs] Bein the creator of a style all mine, I stall online rappers out It's not they fault, they don't know what the culture's all about This don't go out to everybody in the chatroom Just those who assume that hip-hop, is an indoor sport Got them new chains but scared to walk on the court (bitch) While you were goin over hip-hop's new, line of clothes I was combinin flows to clothesline hoes from across the ring Like Dr. Death Steve Williams I'm tellin you, I kill 'em And if my style is too raw to be felt Then fuck it that's just the hand that I'm dealt And I'mma deal with it, I said throw down with me boy And on my tombstone engrave a microphone cause that's what I live by Give my a hundred and ten percent, fuck a lockerroom speech More than half the time, I'm already been amped Ready to go out and face the temp, stare him right in his eyes As he prepares to get murderlyzed When I take the title don't look surprised That nigga Murs on wax, immortalized BITCH, you ain't FUCKIN with me~!