Letra Know the rep de John Cena

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[Freddie Foxxx a.k.a. Bumpy Knuckles]
Y´all know the rep, yeah, listen

My name is Bumpy Knuckles, I write that fuckin flame
And kill for the right price I got a buckin name
My forty caliber too fresh, stuck in aim
We roll like 18 wheelers in the truckin game
I´m nice with mics there´s nothin more I like
than to paralyze your left side and leave you all right
I be layin front of your crib with Tec-y all night
Tryin to get them 9 millimeters loaded up tight, listen
I´m like a Cadillac, I write a battle rap
so smooth contest you´ll be out of that
Y´all know the beef is stewin, that Bumpy came to ruin
You may be signed but you don´t know what the fuck you doin
I make aight hot, I make dope raw
And send you higher than a long Colt four-four
You know the only rap pimp that kept a ho poor
And slam a fool on his back and break the whole floor

[Chorus: Bumpy Knuckles]
A yes yes y´all, and you don´t stop
We keep on, once the cops are gone
This is real street spit you best be warned
Tell your favorite MC the mic is on
A yes yes y´all, and you don´t stop
We keep on, once the cops are gone

[John Cena]
Yeah, yeah
It´s the J daddy, not Hov´ or Jam Master
My mic is correct, but y´all know the hands faster
See you bitch rappers I´m attackin the pile
Y´all be cryin foul cause I´m hackin your style
I make sure you and your mans done
When I see y´all both drop, I´m the cat screamin And1
You see me on the team dog you know the game´s over
Stones on my wrist, and a chip on my shoulder
Sixteens cashin in on another hot beat
Go cop me a drop with the butterscotch seats
And we better not meet, if we do you gon´ see a change
Make sure you whole FACE gettin rearranged
We rollin up in the blacked out truck dog
It´s Freddie Foxxx, now you deal with Corrupt Mob
It´s gas on the fire, any time a track blaze
Squad known to beef up the Heat, just like the Shaq trade

[Tha Trademarc]
This my 9 to 5, this ain´t no hobby cat
Copycat killers bite styles, my rhyme piles is heavy
Give me a beat, man I´ll body that
Spittin that heat street raps man they nod to that
What you smilin at? You R&B, man that´s hardly rap
You lost the beat, man you bought a map
Matter fact, here´s my next rap, borrow that
Been off the street too long, I want my corner back
You ain´t a player, you a armchair quarterback
You ride the beat like side streets on a flat
Don´t play dumb, I know where you came from
You only seen slugs buddy after the rain come
Keep it subtle, Trademarc got you bitch
like babies suckin tits talkin ´bout mami let´s cuddle
It´s gon´ be what it´s gon´ be, you duck down
A quiet cat with a violent rap, what now?