Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm,
I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms.
You botherin mine? That’s when I’m sparkin the nine.
Sean Price, “King Kong,” Jesus Price Superstar, 2007
Tag Archives: sean price
You can tell by the rhyme it’s my time to shine;
Let’s eat, motherfucker, I don’t dine on swine.
I don’t beef with turkeys, I told you the God’ll fold you,
Hard to digest: I suggest that you take tofu.
Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Superstar, 2007
Wake up: all of that ‘crack in the street’ talk?
It’s made up, like ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’
Sean Price, “Pyrex,” Mic Tyson, 2012
I don’t like thugs, I don’t like nerds,
I don’t like myself and I hate bein’ disturbed.
Sean Price, “Critically Acclaimed,” from Statik Selektah’s 100 Proof (The Hangover), 2010
Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
Sean P, “Don’t You Cross the Line,” from Boot Camp Clik’s The Last Stand, 2006
Ain’t no tellin’ what I’d do for a dollar…
I’m not your father, but guess what I’mma do to ya mama.
Sean P, “Murder,” from DJ JS-1’s No Sellout, 2009
Niggas’ rap albums sound like love letters,
Pen in my hand, like: damn, fam, I could do much better.
Sean Price, “Chewbacca,” from Random Axe, 2011
Gangsta rappers can’t fight, so they rap about guns.
Sean Price, “Onion Head,” Monkey Barz, 2005
You know how it go when you got no dough:
Niggas goin out to party and you got no clothes.
And when you do get clothes, then you can’t go out
That’s the bullshit I’m talkin’ about.
Sean Price, “Mess You Made,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. More from Sean Price
I mastered The Art of War before a nigga read Sun Tzu,
Third degree black-belt, master of Gun-Fu.
Pop pills, smoke weed, even get drunk too;
And you do what you can, and I do what I want to.
Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. R.I.P! More from P!
Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm,
I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms.
You botherin mine? That’s when I’m sparkin the nine.
Sean Price, “King Kong,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. R.I.P!
You can tell by the rhyme it’s my time to shine;
Let’s eat, motherfucker, I don’t dine on swine.
I don’t beef with turkeys, I told you the God’ll fold you,
Hard to digest: I suggest that you take tofu.
Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. R.I.P!
Wake up: all of that ‘crack in the street’ talk?
It’s made up, like ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’
Sean Price, “Pyrex,” Mic Tyson, 2012. R.I.P!
I don’t like thugs, I don’t like nerds,
I don’t like myself and I hate bein’ disturbed.
Sean Price, “Critically Acclaimed,” from Statik Selektah’s 100 Proof (The Hangover), 2010. R.I.P!
Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
Sean P, “Don’t You Cross the Line,” from Boot Camp Clik’s The Last Stand, 2006. R.I.P!
Ain’t no tellin’ what I’d do for a dollar…
I’m not your father, but guess what I’mma do to ya mama.
Sean P, “Murder,” from DJ JS-1’s No Sellout, 2009. R.I.P!
Niggas’ rap albums sound like love letters,
Pen in my hand, like: damn, fam, I could do much better.
Sean Price, “Chewbacca,” from Random Axe, 2011. R.I.P!
Gangsta rappers can’t fight, so they rap about guns.
Sean Price, “Onion Head,” Monkey Barz, 2005. R.I.P!
I mastered The Art of War before a nigga read Sun Tzu,
Third degree black-belt, master of Gun-Fu.
Pop pills, smoke weed, even get drunk too;
And you do what you can, and I do what I want to.
Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. More from P!