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B.Y.S. Lyrics

"B.Y.S." was written by Martin, Christopher E / Elam, Keith.
"B.Y.S." was written by Martin, Christopher E / Elam, Keith.

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I'm like a sniper rhymes'll strike ya when I'm rockin
Mad chicks be jockin' when the g starr's talking
And that's because my word is bond
I get much fan mail and I always respond
So tell your hon to write me too
Make sure she puts attention mr. guru
Brothers know the flow is unique
I got 100 wild styles in my black valise
Mc's wanna be me so they keep askin
For me to teach 'em methods both slow and fast
And others wanna act as if they're better
But they only got one style which ain't all that clever
I'm cooler than wind, harder than cold steel
I get the ladies with more than just sex appeal
A mystic psychic scanning all your thoughts
I'll touch your soul and make your brain feel caught
When my rapture traps ya and makes you mine
You'll submit to the gift and to the lyrical lines
So suckers realize that the size is too large
When I come through I'm pullin' whole crews cards
I be wreckin' correct and on the gangster tip
Mc's who front: imma' gonna burst your shit
I wonder do you love it enough
I'm steppin' rugged and tough, never to front or to bluff
I got the fresh cut baldy, the brothers call me
Guru the man yes with all the
J-a-z-z-y type essence, street type lessons manifesting
The one who make the fly ladies feel pleasant
Never forgettin' that to myself I'm true
Do what you want to but watch yourself though
I don't wanna hear all of that loud mouthing
Try to pull yours out when nothing comes out
Then you'll see why you can't compete with me
The notorious guru of the gang you see
Starr stands for power like I said before
I'm like the doctors cure slicker than roger moore
I slide up to a crab mc like this
Tap 'em in the head with my mic like this
I'll be revealing that you're weak to the world if you wish
And I insist that if you persist
Then you get creamed, 'cause imma' get real steamed
So don't you try to flex and try to look all mean
Heyo check it that's dead that's it
'cause all you phony ass rappers imma' bust your shit
Now when you see me on the set you know I may unleash
A lyric like a mad dog barking through the speaker
Step off unless you wanna get torn up
Your raps worn out burned out fucked up
You locked up or maybe you locked out
'cause at the battle last time you snuck out
But now I'm rolling over you full blast
I'm here to let you know no longer will the bull last
Mc's telling lies and poppin' all those myths
Keep on fakin' moves and imma'...

Songwriters
Martin, Christopher E / Elam, Keith

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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