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Talking Smack

This song is by Cali Agents and appears on the album How The West Was One (2000).

(Verse 1: Rasco)
Ah, ah, ah, ha, ha, ah, yes son,
You are now rockin' with the best
Straight from the west
Gunnin for the chest

Ey yo we gets tracks crackillin
C to the a 1, the grand imperial son
Fuck where you from, from the golden
Exactly how much money is you holdin'
Is it yours?can you make everybody on the floor keep movin
Only runnin' with the proven
What we like, never fuck with weak types
It's been two years now it's time for me
And Planet As (Asia) to kick rhymes never showin the signs
Never gettin' too old for this, sometimes we too cold for this
They light up then they roll to this
Just bring me a fifth of the yak
Give me a pad and a pen and then load the track and step back
You know I'm still talkin' the smack
For the lack of a better word, your style's for the birds
We eat 'em up and spit 'em out
The type of niggas that you see in the show go home
And straight up forget about
I'm never turning my back on those
Just because he got doe and like sixteen hoe's
I like myne's sixteen bars bangin' heavy and hard
I wip his ass in his own front yard
Sometimes I fold their card and then shuffle the deck
You fools better show some god-damn respect
I drop line for line and ain't never came weak
These cats get deals and now they're too big to speak
The pipe's still springin the leak
But I can close that up, shut it off and have that shit backed up
It's the c to the a, you know how we do
You lookin' for us?bring your whole damn crew

We can go line for line and track for track
We be keepin' it underground and never came wack
You know we still talkin' the smack
It's the c to the a you get your wig pushed back

(Verse 2: Rasco)
Ey yo, how many times I gotta spit these rhymes
You niggas still snotting on that cocaine line
You must be puffin the dust to keep fuckin' with us
We bust back at the whole damn pack
Now this is dedicated to the ones that be all up on the internet
Talkin' that trash you get smashed
I'm tellin' your ass that I'm out to make cash
And I'ma revoke your little hip-hop past
You can just save the little praisin acalades
I'm more concerned with my bills getting paid
I'm not in the game to try to brake my neck
My little babygirl can't eat your respect
And that's real and I don't care how you feel
Cause all of you cats is looking for the dollar bill
You just won't put it to tape I like keepin' it straight
Let it be known from the god-damn gate
I don't have time to try to make y'all think
And don't be mad at my forty inch link
'Cause I work hard to get brand new shit
Cause you and the man ain't gon give me shit
This is the script that I quote from the throat
Some of the best rhymes a nigga ever wrote
Back on the scene with my man J.Green
Part of the team since he was like fifteen
Put it between your ears bang it all year
Those I lost I wish that you was all here
Peace to Plan.B, my nigga Careers, PP???
Those are the three cats that gave me the start
And that's the reason why I spit rhymes from the heart

Yo! all the cats, talkin' shit,
Bring it on, it's 2000
Not havin' that shit, fuck that
Yours truly... the Grand Imperial
Soul father Rasco
Cali Agent number one
Yo, 427 on the track

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