Fools Love Lyrics

Ya’ll better come well equipped
Champaigne, caviar
Remy at the bar, take a sip
Tight leather pants, oh u a crossdresser now
Tell me fag, how u gon’ take the pressure now
We got the LIVE up in the hive type shit
Ain’t none o’ ya’ll matchin’ Persona type wit
Only concerned with ya Beamer or Benz
Fash trends, fake friends
how much cash they spend
Catwalk fashions
million dollar mansions
I don’t give a damn how much ass u be bangin’
Blow out ya flame, snatch ya plat-pressed chain
Auction it ta the kid with the 5cent bid
Ya caught up in the material
Fancy this, fancy that
Ain’t nothin’ fancy bout ya rap
Ya weak, cheap creeps ain’t nothin’ unique
I got mad styles, knock peeps off their feet
Ain’t makin’ this fo’ radio
Yet they wanna play it tho
Could it be the ill beat flow?
Blowing up ya stereo
Misfits stars o’ the show
Maybe that’s why…


You won’t admit you love me

All ya money hungry grubbin’ hustlin’
Wannbe champaigne bubblin’

You love me

Honey covered crews
Smotherin’ the true sound
Who frontin’ in the sound booth

You won’t admit you love me

All ya underground cats
Goal driven but ya livin’ only fo’ the mad cash by
Spittin’ on tracks with no rhythm

You love me

It’s I, The flippa, ripper, spitter live wire
Set this mic a-fire, 6 hitter UH!
With a mustin’ bust hustlin’ city slicker
The crew crusher crasher
Extravagant extravaganza
Word Gangsta!
You better ta swerve and smash ya Mazda
Coz you could never tangle with the exceptional
To the rules
Innovative like inventions
We ascendin’ ta the next dimension
Here to knock you out the game
Snatch ya crown and ya reign o’ terror
And rebuke ya fame
And reduce ya name ta the level o’ puke
I’m gonna revel in betterin’ you
I’m a rebel that attains astral plains
Skills, still levels ahead o’ you
Bruise with pugilistic abuse
My magic splatters mad hatters with hat tricks
Stick shatter and batter meager misogynistic rappers

Now ya money hungry honeys lookin’ kinda funny dummies
Don’t know this
Still gon’ show this
The way ya brag bout ya Gucci bags
Price tags and mags
I rip the hair off ya back
Make ya eat it like Nads
Sup wid dem ho’s in yo videos?
That’s why you get the profit
Brothers get off on it
Straight jackin’ it
Scrubs not thugs
Front but you got sum
Big booty shaker from the slum
Left-overs Dick-blowers High-rollers
Yeah right bend over
Stealin’ ya endz or ya big body Benz
Shit still you be sayin’ ta dem


Comin’ Official
To kill the artificial
Fake, plastic, wack shit
Mimics, sportin’ gimics and theatrics
That of guerilla status
Fo’ real faggot
Here ta knock ya world off it’s axis

Infinitely witted
I admit it, tight lines I spit it
Close-knitted, well fitted, I did it
When this go down
Persona fabulous
When this go down
Persona marvelous WUT!

Clown, fictitious, Non-sense
Be comin’ out ya mouth
So ridiculous
It’s makin’ me sick
But I understand why so many people (Love you)
Coz only fools give love to fools
And you the king!


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Record Label(s): 2004 MOS
Official lyrics by

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