God of Barz by Tru Trilla Lyrics
Verse 1
I send signals that’ll crash your spaceship
Your bars not heavy they petty and weightless
Brake jaws God of Bars I weight lift
What’s yours is now ours for the cause I take shit
Never behind your back right in front of your face bitch
Beat rappers up out of luck who shape shift
Hating on the low want to know with that snake shit
T Trilla hang with gorillas and ape pricks
Never run walk through the jungle and shake shit
You ain’t gotta like it but respect it and face it
Fuck your mammy understand me I’m nothing to play with
My work flow effort flow epic when laced it
Your tunes ain’t loony style is basic
Raised the deficit moves move so effortless
Rappers is fruity and booty Tyson Beford shit
No fruit of balloons these coons wearing leopard prints
Hook 1
You know they don’t rap you know they don’t rhyme
Everybody a rapper spitting ghost writers lines
They never sold crack stack a thousand at a time
Everybody a kingpin, somebody lying
Verse 2
Yeah y’all rapping with no feeling
Online hustlers claiming you dope dealing
Clumsy hustlers you wondering who squealing
Bars is scarred for life with no healing
They never figure it out til they slammed on their heads
And dud their cigarette out without a doubt
We don’t trap house we snap out and black out
Aiming the strap out now get the stash out dog
God Anubis your rhymes is foolish
Send a virus that’ll blue screen all your computers
Hack your shooters they turn on their rulers
Blast your medulla forgot the password you need a new user
Tru magnetic your flow need clothes
Your rhymes is half naked booty lyrics on ass records
No style profile you half stepping
Clown sit down and just take this ass whooping
Hook 2
You know they ain’t strapped your bullets ain’t flying
Everybody a gangster, only online
You don’t talk facts you know y’all be lying
As soon as the fed come the whole block doing time
I send signals that’ll crash your spaceship
Your bars not heavy they petty and weightless
Brake jaws God of Bars I weight lift
What’s yours is now ours for the cause I take shit
Never behind your back right in front of your face bitch
Beat rappers up out of luck who shape shift
Hating on the low want to know with that snake shit
T Trilla hang with gorillas and ape pricks
Never run walk through the jungle and shake shit
You ain’t gotta like it but respect it and face it
Fuck your mammy understand me I’m nothing to play with
My work flow effort flow epic when laced it
Your tunes ain’t loony style is basic
Raised the deficit moves move so effortless
Rappers is fruity and booty Tyson Beford shit
No fruit of balloons these coons wearing leopard prints
Hook 1
You know they don’t rap you know they don’t rhyme
Everybody a rapper spitting ghost writers lines
They never sold crack stack a thousand at a time
Everybody a kingpin, somebody lying
Verse 2
Yeah y’all rapping with no feeling
Online hustlers claiming you dope dealing
Clumsy hustlers you wondering who squealing
Bars is scarred for life with no healing
They never figure it out til they slammed on their heads
And dud their cigarette out without a doubt
We don’t trap house we snap out and black out
Aiming the strap out now get the stash out dog
God Anubis your rhymes is foolish
Send a virus that’ll blue screen all your computers
Hack your shooters they turn on their rulers
Blast your medulla forgot the password you need a new user
Tru magnetic your flow need clothes
Your rhymes is half naked booty lyrics on ass records
No style profile you half stepping
Clown sit down and just take this ass whooping
Hook 2
You know they ain’t strapped your bullets ain’t flying
Everybody a gangster, only online
You don’t talk facts you know y’all be lying
As soon as the fed come the whole block doing time