Rugged Rugged E

You hear that? It drops heavy. Shit that broke the levees. Uh. The closest. Woo! Thorough tracks. Come on. Shoot, shoot. You don't want Army go in front On me. I'm a beast, I ride the beat Like a Harley seat. Chromed out with the pipes built to tear up Streets. Like a doodle track, shred 'em up when I begin to like cut. Keep it gangsta, for real, my heat bang at Creeps. And your chick shorter like a jockey, Yo, she ride my meat. I keep fresh ones on my feet, and the Jeans is exclusive. You don't got no swag than me. A lot of rappers wanna jab at me. Do it. Like I said on Simon Says, You gonna wanna sound like me. They think it's backpacks 'til a MAC come out. Chop you in half like a meatloaf when I Air you out. Kick in the door to your House, duck tape kids and spouse. Put socks in they mouth, you wanna go that Route? Oh, you thinking it's just rap, It's just words. Think you safe 'cause you up In that house in the suburbs. No skinny jeans here, yeah, we thug it, Thug it. No Auto-Tune here, keep it rugged, Rugged. No silly ass dance, yeah, We thug it, thug it. Crunch shit over here, We don't got no budget. No skinny jeans here, yeah, we thug it, Thug it. No Auto-Tune here, keep it rugged, Rugged. No silly ass dance, yeah, We thug it, thug it. Crunch shit over here, we don't got no budget, Fuck Straight out the bottom, it's the return of The rotten. Street champion, don't act like y'all Forgot him. The closest nigga, Amp up the violence. Get on the horn like Houston, we got a Problem. Stop pressing, pump up the volume. Shit is depressing like where the fuck's my wild Niggas? I miss the days of hotness on the Radio. Blunt smoke, they fucking up the rotation Though. And I ain't hating yo, I'm just saying Yo. My culture deserves more than what they playing Though. And since they telling us that we gotta Pay the blow. I blow they motherfucking brains out, Take the dough. Here, take it though, hold that ho. Pissed at I put a hole in your Kodak Pose, whoa. It's Rap-I-S Dub and Tracks. The return of the rotten and niggas is scared To death. No skinny jeans here, yeah, we thug It, thug it. No Auto-Tune here, Keep it rugged, rugged. No silly ass dance, yeah, we thug it, Thug it. Crunch shit over here, we don't got No budget. No skinny jeans here, Yeah, we thug it, thug it. No Auto-Tune here, keep it rugged, Rugged. No silly ass dance, yeah, We thug it, thug it. Crunch shit over here, We don't got no budget, I'm bad on drugs, Tweaking from lots of homegrown. They like, "BK, you're a dick, please stop eating Oxycodone." That's easy to say for you, But I ain't even afraid to vacuum two kilos Of coke, start skiing away. Okay, back to the main point. I puke from Hot 97, every song sounds like The same joint. But we hip hop longs, Our hearts is beating. Pause, broadcasting live from the Sayonara meeting. Kid, we'll make you a bigger star. First step, lose 90 pounds. Then get some jeans tighter than your bitches are. Listen to us or you won't be shit. We'll get you a hook from blank. Fill in random R&B bitch. The time's right, I'm nice. So they love me in a herd like four Chicken wings with a side of fried rice. What's the world come to? The gods is cheating. Big dead, Pac dead, but Lil Wayne still breathing? No skinny jeans here, yeah, we thug it, Thug it. No Auto-Tune here, keep it rugged, Rugged. No silly ass dance, yeah, We thug it, thug it. Crunch shit over here, We don't got no budget. No skinny jeans here, yeah, we thug it, Thug it. No Auto-Tune here, keep it rugged, Rugged. No silly ass dance, yeah, We thug it, thug it. Crunch shit over here, We don't got no budget, fuck it.