Mr Len - The Hurt Lyrics
[Produced by Mr. Len][Verse 1: Jean Grae]Bank on the bestWho drop it like an Acme anvil-lainFreeze your chest to leave you breathing illHow about Jean and a fifth of Nyquil in yaGrilling my perimeterNiggas exposed, see who pulls and falls, I ain't feeling yaTold y'all, I'm proof two-oh-ohHotter than the diaphragms of twenty *****es backstage with chlamydiaSnot-nosed punks, I'm that deranged chickNo Range, no whip -- same for all the niggas I hang withI'm a pen-holding, gold-rocking, 40-swigging niggaFigure me out, maneuver me, sue me for getting into yaSting like another word for the copsZen master, classes held on the waxYour homework is playbackPro-black and anti-*****, anti-snitchMic cords is whips, trains is fours, fives, and sixesAnd no Benz and ***** friends, I'll be the last chick standingWait, nah, ***** that -- bring at least one man in[Hook: Murs]Say what, nigga?Speak up, I can't hear youLook me in my eyes if you feel that I should see youStill drunk from last nightBuzzing off my last fightWhat if I turned around and quickly whipped your ass?I'd be right[Verse 2: Jean Grae]Jean, bench-press strength is a million and five strongNo henchmen, yes-niggas to survive onInvestment figures is little to ride onNo nine-to-five, a nine to get live onLive onstage like a Shante RoxanneWith men and some rock bandMosh pits, *****s, and handsI'm a mic addict, type dramatical lifeHigh gramatical statusNon-compatible, non grataNo Prada, no baby fatherOut of place like Road Rules insiderWon't spill bottles of vodkaI'm prejudiced, bastardRule, kill you with tender serviceEat the food and pass gas in your closed casketI'll get my ass kicked and talk shit while it's happeningHeard shots, run to the side that niggas clapped inI been punk, been drunk, been drugged but ***** itNow I fight backYou could pull the vinyl from your backpack(Oh right, that's your gat; oh right, I forgot)[Hook][Verse 3: Jean Grae]My type is wrong, weight is thickHeight depends if I've been stumbling all night longWrite for songs like I'm hyped to hold the mic for throngsGather round, rip down stagesJust to prove pointsMade minimum wages for jointsAnd still blaze your boysStay poised when I'm flipping on your toy bullshitNo chips, just shit in your faceHate your moms, take your armsMake you watch all the rape scenes from OzRound of applause when you bound to fall and get tossedYour high-floss, high gloss and mega high beamsStrange it seems, your daylight still ain't seeing meNew York representative, I told you beforeAnd the only way I like it is raw, no pause
