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Nobody Likes (Explicit) - Kemo The Blaxican
It must be the way they count of me
When they need a guarantee to rock a party
It must be all them black and brown blends
Halla' in the word' blaxican'
It must be the fact they know my name from
Southern call all the way to Spain
Maybe it's the fact that my claim to fame
Was a little southern accent Latin thing
The truth is I ain't got much ice
But I can throw' em blow and rock the mic nice
Like a full time temp turns a sky blue
From hazy gray that's what I do
Maybe it's the fact that I roll that joint
Universal ain't that the point
I think that some rather see me crawl on the floor
Like hand and know
But I ain't that type of cat I smack back
Maybe it's the fact that I act like that
Which leads to the fact I don't give a sh*t
They go their own backyard to deal with
Nobody likes the way he holds his mic
It don't fit in with the trend
The clothes that he wears
The way he comes his hair
He's just that funky' blaxican'
Now he ain't got no one
He ain't trying to hurt no one
But if sucks they come out to offend
Then somebody gonna pay
Y'all know that man don't play
And we'll see who left standing in the end
Sick me in a chamber with a thousand beats
Pen to pad friction to create heat
I flame throw burn' em up like the beat mesquite
Hit' em with a little make you move yo' feet
I want everybody in the joint out they seats
Gangstas warriors crooks and thieves
Hustlers soldiers street elite
You don't know me I rep the cloth
J o I n t I'm the boss
Sh*t getting hot about to blow
Like sen dog did it with that Latin lingo
What up to cypress Mr Jacken
Psycho realm big duck what's happening
Guess who's rapping the Blanca
A swift kick put a wiggle in they a** again
I roll with the dead silence clique
Life support coming through your speaker
Music feint mane maniac
Most Unicode and sicko black
Tambourine la crazy you know the deal
I got black siren in my heart for real
Everything I touch I'm make symbolic
Serving up hits when my voice is on it
Nobody likes the way he holds his mic
It don't fit in with the trend
The clothes that he wears
The way he comes his hair
He's just that funky' blaxican'
Now he ain't got no one
He ain't trying to hurt no one
But if sucks they come out to offend
Then somebody gonna pay
Y'all know that man don't play
And we'll see who left standing in the end
Nobody likes the way he holds his mic
It don't fit in with the trend
The clothes that he wears
The way he comes his hair
He's just that funky' blaxican'
Now he ain't got no one
He ain't trying to hurt no one
But if sucks they come out to offend
Then somebody gonna pay
Y'all know that man don't play
And we'll see who left standing in the end
