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Artist: Buddha Monk & Da Manchuz f/ Rambo, Raw
Album:  Zu-Chronicles, Vol. 4: Manchuz Dynasty
Song:   Your Tracks Ain't Hot
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Rambo]
Come on...
Ya'll cats ain't hot, your tracks ain't hot

[Chorus: Rambo]
Ya'll cats ain't hot, your tracks ain't hot
Plus ya'll can't rock, and ya'll just not
Ya'll layin' on top, yo, fuck your blocks
And fuck ya'll streets, ya'll need to stop
Ya'll make me sick, the pain I inflict
My soldiers handed pick, we war convicts
We come through thick, to take ya'll shit
Ya'll niggas is fags, ya'll niggas is bitch

We use what we got, to get what we need
If I can't eat, then ya'll can't breathe
Wake the fuck up, ain't no one sleeping
Ya'll know my name, it's even Steven
I ain't got no dough, so I'm thieving thieving
Put shit in my pocket and I'm leaving leaving

I'm the demon, Raw, half black and Puerto Rican
I'm speaking, lava, the advocate's father
I'm hot, and Buddha Monk got me by the collar
He dipped me in some boiling oil and I didn't holla

Rap and robbering, burglaring, buck 'em down, murdering
Slapping 'em, serving 'em, victims of disturbance men
Grippin' 'em, chokin' 'em, much until he open 'em
Rippin' 'em, roppin' 'em, beat him down and broke him in
Entering, exiting, hit 'em and his head will spin
Let's begin, pick a pen, move on up like Jefferson
Diff'rent Strokes, weapon men, bring me out the tech and then
Rambo start to reppin' and, blast til the session end
This is just the first half, think about the second and

Ya'll dumb punks ain't hot enough, get shotted up
Got flattered up, body rotted up, body punch
Pumping up, heart stopping up, veins clogging up
I got you going up the topics, slowing up, I'm bouncing in the cut
Jumping in the truck, made your brain erupt
Cops clean it up, for the driver's stop, then I laugh it up
Stash my burner up and zip my jacket up, when I'm acting up
You best to back it up, you best to back it up


I got a strong work ethnic, manifique technique
Ya'll better respect it, antique speech
Get the fans out they seats, chicken coming at me, like
Sign my buttcheek, when you sign my and say
I'm like you wanna be with me, in a place to be
Well the place to be is my house, when the lights go out
Pants down, dick in your mouth
Fuck we blow out, then you got to get the hell out
Lysol'll get the smell out, hitting all the deep spots, I make you yell out
Floss that shit, I rhyme for the chicks, you know what that means
I rhyme for your bitch, I blow her a kiss
And hope she blow my dick

Ram born a renegade, ya'll niggas been afraid
Bitch better have my money and my dinner made
You think you just got locked? You been a slave
Pay attention to the words that's up in this page
I had you deader than the corpse that's up in the grave
I'm just too damn nice, ain't it a shame?
You used to score a lot until I came in the game
I stop your whole existance and end your name
While ya'll talk about war, we go all out
I'm hitting too damn hard, I make you fall out
I thought you was all icey, you thawed out?
If your wifey talk slick, I can blow it out
You was going the right way, but went the wrong route
This is real life, I live to put the bomb out
The rap powerhouse blow your song out
Sound the bell and bring the gong out, now