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Artist: Born Allah
Album:	Laid in Full Pt. 2
Song:	Someone to Hate
Typed by:

Born Allah..
Sweet Daddy Grace..
The Supreme Being..
Love Allah..
Ill Boogie.. (*echoes*)

[ Verse One ]
Rap is my bitch, but right now she got me pissed
Let these niggaz fuck for a buck
Damn I mischocked, you platinum plus but it still sucks
Westcoast stuff without a kakis and a ??
But I ain't giving up, the chronic and hennesey on my pistol rip paw
You fools bustin' cats in they rapz
But can't take it when they raps bust back
So I be like "Yo fuck these emcees"
I'm in a recordstore spitting on emcees, these
My attitude rock is L's with a golden nameplate and a Kango
That's why rappers is gettin' strangled
They call me, Jack The Ripper when I'm off the liquor
I smoke chronic, is raw spitting in ebonics
If you want it, you got it
But you gotta call me 'Your Highness'
Cause me and my niggaz we's gon' to bring the ruckus, so fuck it
Born Allah is out for them duckets
With niggaz with straps hit rats rollin' in them buckets

[ Chorus ]
Born Allah, can't hide y'all, Chief Big Balls
Sweet Daddy Amazin' Grace came to blaze the place
Raise the states, keep the hotness in your milkcrates
And you can come to me if you're looking for someone to hate

"Next time we bring it to these faggots we ain't playin" -> Jadakiss
"You and your squad better praise the real God"
"I was born" "The A-L-L-A-H"

[ Verse Two ]
Yo, lyrically I don't even see you fools is rappers
Bitch ass niggaz saggin' smilin' for the cameras
Wannabe gangsters, O.D.'ed on mafia-movies
Dreamsy you smoking cigars, rollin' with uzi's
You tutsi, wear in wardrobe for the movie
You really not the ill nigga that you claim to be (You'se a phoney)
All gassed up by ya people, before comin' to me have a Pholie and a Primo
Deathwish, cause this a fist-fight to music
I'm closin' on rappers and make 'em feel claustrophobic
I wait in the den for you to come out the closet
It be the fourth of July, but ain't nothing hoppin'
Shockin', I found out about your lil' girl Robin
Fucking a neighbourhood felon with no protection
My erection is hard, cause I'm guard on the rap
Arm, leg, leg, arm, arm, head, 'nuff said

[ Chorus ]

[ Verse Three ]
I spit refusely, my pin abused losely
Who got beef? Fool we all court in the street
I keep a p-noid, watching from across the room
standin' like a b-boy
Fool you ain't the one, you just a decoy
Kneeled before me like Sallah
Starvin' like Ramadan, lyrical phenomenon
Born, watch out, strike like lightning
Should I be writing, get motherfuckers in the fighting
It's on, my lyrics come in the form of a foetus
Thirty bars on labor, now you giving birth for dope shit
Every track I rip is like a birth-certificate
Floor the mothership with these dibs, puffin' canibus
Can you stand this, righteous man from Los Angeles
Notorious lyricist, tryna overcome and gimmick shit
Most of 'em just mimmick it, bitin' a little bit
But don't trip, we gon' squash that shit

[ Chorus ] [ Samples cut 'n scratches 'til fade ]