It S Over Lyrics

It s Over Lyrics by Ski Beatz :
[Verse 1: Strick]
What, Silky Don Entertainment
That n*gga Strick, Royce the 5’9”
Rock-A-Block all day, what yo yo yo
I’m the type to show up to the studio
Write that sh*t, spit it, hit it, leave ya’ll askin “Who dat?”
I’m the next n*gga to boom, I assumed ya’ll already knew that
Hip hop’s hottest new cat, lay your crew flat
Have your label faxin my label askin “Why ya’ll have to do that?”
It’s a true fact, when you rap, the crowd boo that
And more than a few cats agree you shouldn’t even do rap
What you recorded, screw that, buy a new DAT
Your girl’s a true rat, so when I f*cked her I wore two hats
So move back you little newjack
‘Fore you f*ck around and do some sh*t that get not only you
But your whole crew whacked
Too strong and I’m too black
And pack not one but two gats
And I’ma aim em at you black, true dat

[Verse 2: Royce Da 5’9″]
The veteran that’ll never retire
Devilish, judge the red in my eye
Judge the nine instead of my size
Ahead of my time, the second coming of a legend in rhymes
That’ll shine whenever I die
We never lie, you’ll never get by
U just got love, I used to roll wit big shot thugs to hip hop clubs
You act up, the fifth got hugged and blasted
Pits got dugged and filled back up wit stiffs wrapped up in plastic
Give me a heater, you givin me a reason to shoot
You givin’ me the key to your coupe
Midwest, not the middle, Strick clutchin’ the five
Wavin’ the Tec out the window, clip touchin’ the tire
sh*t is over

[Chorus: Strick]
sh*t is over, sh*t is over
The sh*t is over, the sh*t is over
Cuz’ ain’t nobody f*ckin’ wit us
Ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us
sh*t is over, sh*t is over, bye bye
sh*t is over, sh*t is over
Cuz’ ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us
Ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us

[Verse 3: Strick]
Aiyyo my mom’s got Ahlzeimer’s, my dad’s an alcoholic
So last night, I forgot to drive drunk and hit you
Talk lots of junk and diss you
Pop the trunk and split you
Sick n*gga, you don’t really want it wit Strick, n*gga
Freestyle or written sh*t, take your pick, n*gga
Bring your click n*gga, I’ll swing a stick n*gga
Wit hotter rhymes, I’m outta control and you outta line
I got alot of rhymes, and I’ma spit till you outta rhymes
The hot sh*t, you better off tryin to change the topic
I pop sh*t to let ya’ll n*ggas know ya’ll not sh*t
Hit the curb swervin in a hot whip
You a punk and I’m here
And you probably the one that flunked when I got skipped
Incredible rhymin and f*ck wit n*ggas for fun
Buck at n*ggas wit guns, you duck from n*ggas and run
So who’s the illest n*gga that you know? (Who is it?)
Now ask that n*gga who’s the illest n*gga that he know
I’ll bet he say me, yo
The only thing bigger than my di*k is my ego
I rip and it’s over, while you stare at the chip on my shoulder
Ya’ll don’t want none of me
Not only will I have ya’ll scared to bust
But you won’t even discuss rap in front of me
The odds-on favorite to say sh*t
Then have your crew tellin you that n*gga Strick’s nuttin to play wit
Save it for a rainy day
I’ll pick the tec up, aim and spray
And permanently take your pain away, what

[Chorus: Strick]
sh*t is over, sh*t is over
The sh*t is over, the sh*t is over
Cuz ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us
Ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us

[Verse 4: Royce Da 5’9″]
What what you’re not in a least, above gettin shot in the street
I show up at cyphers and they scatter like I’m the police
Now we got a bunch of drug-connected thugs on records
Stripped butt-naked runnin when they blood is tested
All ya’ll n*ggas stink, real n*ggas know what a b*tch smell like
Tell you how we tell lies, tell what he wear his hair like
You can’t amaze the amazing, change your ways
We plant bodies, throw stones wit the names engraved
The games you play, make me point this thing your way
My n*ggas rob for consistency, a chain a day
I’m about as humble as I can pretend to be
A real n*gga’s best friend, a b*tch n*gga’s worst enemy
It don’t hurt, it offends me
The chrome bursts in a frenzy
It’s gon’ work till it’s empty
Just makin sure that my gun shoots fastin than yours
And I’m chasin you, and my bullets is chasin yours

[Chorus: Strick]
sh*t is over, sh*t is over
The sh*t is over, the sh*t is over
Cuz’ ain’t nobody f*ckin’ wit us
Ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us
sh*t is over, sh*t is over, bye bye
sh*t is over, sh*t is over
Cuz’ ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us
Ain’t nobody f*ckin’ with us

[Outro: Strick]
Yeah, Big Strick, Royce the 5’9”
Tommy Boy meets Rock-A-Block
Silky Don