You Ain't Saying Nothing chords by J.R. Writer
Verse 1
Am
Yo, it's Pavan.
It's your boy Jones.
Cop on status.
Dipset's El Capitan,
a .k .a. New York's Ryder, man.
Y 'all niggas want nothing.
I'm with my YG right now,
young JR Ryder.
We gonna go through the best
of his joints.
Best of, nigga.
We the best of the dips.
We the best of the shit.
Holler at us, man.
Dipset, holler.
I hear them slick remarks,
but you ain't fit to spark,
man put your whip in park,
I'll have this fifth apart,
look nigga get some heart,
you ain't about feuding,
I see your mouth moving,
but you ain't saying nothing,
I'm holding Harlem with the heat,
heat revolver
You'll be joggin' in your jeep,
and dodgin' in your sneaks
Dog pardon, I'm a beast,
and how I walk around with hammers
You would swear I have problems
with my feet, creep
Yes, I'm quick to leave ya,
stretch and grip the meter
Glock nine, I'm fine,
you better be the quickest weaver
I sit and pitch a leader,
plus got all the fiends
Knockin' on my door for candy
just like trick -or -treaters
I hit the dickest divas,
flippin' with the beamer
Riskless shit, Missy, that's a misdemeanor
I don't hit the chick
if she ain't as thick as Trina
Have a grip than Nina,
cat chicks like Tina
Clap clips with Stina,
lean your hood backwards
You ain't a thug,
you got some talk of good rappers
Me? I'm one of them rappers
that just would slap ya
Grip and lick at your dome
like the Bushwhackers
I hear them slick remarks
but you ain't fit to spark
Man put your whip in park,
I'll let this fifth apart
Look nigga get some heart,
you ain't about feuding
I see your mouth movin',
but you ain't sayin' nothin'
I hear them slick remarks,
but you ain't fit to spark
Man, put your whip in park,
I'll let this fifth apart
Look, nigga, get some heart,
you ain't about feudin'
I see your mouth movin',
but you ain't sayin' nothin'
Look, dawg, I must live,
my chick's puss did
Pussed, I copped a bangin' car
and a plus crib
So I get enough wig,
and got girls that'll run through cities
For some kids like Puff did
I'm just a fly cat and shit, when I rap,
they drop bombs from NY to Iraq
You lil guys rats,
that run with rats who rat
and keep bugs on them like fly traps
So dawg why act, you BSing,
I'm GSing, LS, BBS runs
So when you see me,
you won't see less than, a drop, your girl,
and her three best friends
Cause I'm in Sean, Florida,
been on the ground longer
Who turn cat's body bag out, Ron Gornis
I lay nine on ya, cop you a casket
And bring a box to your crib
like Tom Warner
I hear them slick remarks,
but you ain't fit to spark
Man put your whip in park,
I'll let this fifth apart
Look nigga get some heart,
you ain't about feuding
I see your mouth moving,
but you ain't saying nothing
I hear them slick remarks,
but you ain't fit to spark
Man put your whip in park,
I'll let this fifth apart
Look nigga get some heart,
you ain't about feuding
I see your mouth movin',
but you ain't sayin' nothin'
See, I'm the next to do it,
nah, the best to do it
Is you extra booted, or just extra stupid?
I'm a lesson, use it, more or less abuse it
Once I detect some music,
Am
I catch wreck and lose it
I don't stand up and scrap it,
I got hammers and ratchets
I make you watch a man get his ass kicked
All they say is, damn it, this bastard
You wouldn't be this nice
if you took anger management classes
Nope, doggie,
you need handling practice
Yeah, you can jump,
but your shit jam at the basket
Man, I'm the man at the basket
Credit card, body bags,
even the hammers are plastic
Am
I take the war route,
and let the force sprout
Macmillan, act silly,
I'll bring them all out
Look, I make them whores south,
Am
south
Ask about me, dawg, I'm about war, war
Am
And what a war about,
about Christian Dior blouse, blouse
It's what I'm all about, about
I turn your whore's house
into a whorehouse, house
Ass on the floor, couch, couch,
floor, ouch, aww, shit, say
Easy on my mouth, jaw, mouth,
Am
door, doubt, door's out
Feet massage, feet menage,
legs cop, head whops
Goddamn, she's a slob,
look, see the probs
We the mob, please insolve,
but of course I'm a boss
Holla if you need a job
You Ain't Saying Nothing
J.R. Writer
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