Cella Dwellas - Main Aim

Song Rating: 8.75/10

Song lyrics:

Verse One: Phantasm, Ug

I stay takin flicks with chicks, spendin Gs on whiz and kicks
While those hip hop ticks, stay on my dick
MCs is all ill like bags from Bonton
Stay souped up just like won-ton
All I got it hard times, the illest rhymes
A couple of dimes and a rusty nine that aint even mine
Thousand dollar links on, gotta get my drink on
But aint ever put a mink on
I still get nice and shoot dice, still eat pork fried rice
Still shoot threes like Mark Price
Second time around, still gettin down for my crown
Give you that hip hop sound

Yo, my rugged raps, dip on tracks
Like Japs in straw hats in Saigon
Through trees other icon, squeeze like py-thons
You dont know who you be facin
The gat I bust will split your a** up like segregation
Or federation, come together like United Nations
To bring oblieteration, 1-51 is what Im tastin
No hesitation when I come through
Avoid sh** ca**ette tapes when I scream like Clue (echo)
U-G, keep n***as guessin, break bones like teckin
While n***as fake moves like wrestlin
No question, I bring it every time baby
Dont try to play me, I Roc-a-Fella like Jay-Z

Chorus:

Maintain, few remain in the game
So, I remain focus and pops the main aim
--] K-Solo from Redmans Its Like That



Verse Two: Phantasm, Ug

I never did a soundtrack, but my sounds is phat
You think thats gonna hold me back from gettin mines in rap
Yall n***as step to the rear, cause the Dwellas is here
Disappeared for a year, now the smoke is clear
Debut 23 on the charts and Billboard
Even headliners got flawed when we toured
Because all my releases are lyrical masterpieces
Through the knowledge baby, science that, check my thesis
I cant stand the rain or the pain
To see these wack n***as game, aiyyo Im tryin to maintain
I dont even rhyme no more I explain
Rules of the game, simple and plain
This rap industry, aint sh** to me
The million dollar man just need currency
So I can get this estate and live great
Finally a home of my own as king of my throne

Well roast ya, focus like Manolta, hold gats like a holsta
Thatll rip through shirts like the Hulksta
Dance on tracks like John Travolta, Saturday Day Night Fe-Ver
Put n***as to sleep like e-ther, usin the sleeper, hold
My flow be ill
Make room rides beats like Masingil, check it
I wanna sell like Hootie and the Blowfish
My goatie, got shorties sayin I look like Will Smith
With cuter lips, huh, my clip slip slugs to toaster
Hit your leg and have ya limpin like Keyser Soze
Chicks, honeydips, whips whip plus ya poster
Re-appose me ya get crushed
I cut flows like tight hand cuffs, n***a WHAT

Chorus

Date of text publication: 17.01.2021 at 08:20