Lyrics FLAME ON (feat. MAD LION & KRS-One) - Rufus Blaq

Yes
Might as well Stick yourself Nigga Yes
Rufus Blaq
KRS- One MAD LION
We about to corner the market Yes
Double trouble
Wha do Dem
Let's get it

I'm a muthafucking terrorist, with a bomb strapped to my larynx
Assassin, bitches treat my dick like a clarinet
Rappers scared to death and I ain't even air em yet
I took his chain about two month ago, and I ain't wear yet
I got ryhmes that'll body your top 10
Spit 100 bars of murder with the Ox in
Weeded up and loaded with toxins
Mentally clear and sober it don't matter cuz you will not win
Brutally beat a rapper while his whole team watch
It's like I got Samson's hair and David's slingshot
White women call me their dream cock
I walk in a room and get you respect you would think that niggaz seen Pac
I gotta mayweather IQ in the ring, knock a nigga out then fuck em up in his dreams
This over hand right'll make gangstas lean
I gotta Tyson combination for you auto tune drag Queens

All you gotta do is soak up this game
I'm still one of the nicest homey that won't change yeah
You don't want no problems B, get your name in the obituary column sheet
I don't think you really wanna test this flame
I would advise you to please stay in you lane yeah
You don't want no problems B, I don't run my nigga all you gotta do is pull up

As for me, I'm a real MC for life
Ashing my blunt inna your mouth,before I pick up the dice
King of my city, went international back in 94
Leaving rappers shook with how I kick down the door
You chefing up beef, well I'm nyamming it raw
I'm nick named divinci cuz I'm quick to pull up and draw
A renegade monster with mechanical arms
Rip off your body parts and leave dem pon ya moms front lawn yeah
Bad mon, rude boy y'all niggaz weak still why
All these niggaz sound like Migos, baby or they Meek Mill
Old heads let it slide and don't say shit
Until they son come home turned out on some hoes shit
Poppin pills like white girls in broken homes
Most of these rappers ain't artists they some fucking clones
Give me Yo mic nigga you can't have it back
This is hip hop! Nigga I'm sick of rap

All you gotta do is soak up this game
I'm still one of the nicest homey that won't change yeah
You don't want no problems B, get your name in the obituary column sheet
I don't think you really wanna test this flame
I would advise you to please stay in you lane yeah
You don't want no problems B, I don't run my nigga all you gotta do is pull up

Pull up Pull up, the mic I'm not done with it
Hot like the summer get, you know who you fucking with
Kris on that other shit, bread and butter shit
Smother ya brother under the cover real gutter shit
Holster with the gun in it, bustin' it
Old school and my CD player got big pun in it bumping it
Glass got exotic Rum in it
My flow is like pool in the club they jump in it
Loving it, rawness they bumping it
Double trouble make it bubble you see what we coming with
Boom bap gutter shit
My foot they under it, classics we running it
The mic I be touching it the crowd start humming it
100 bands MAD LION counting and thumbing
Rufus Blaq, KRS ONE we all up in it
World tours for sure we get it Jumpin quick
Wah Da Da ding, yeah we still busting it!

All you gotta do is soak up this game
I'm still one of the nicest homey that won't change yeah
You don't want no problems B, get your name in the obituary column sheet
I don't think you really wanna test this flame
I would advise you to please stay in you lane yeah
You don't want no problems B, I don't run my nigga all you gotta do is pull up