Hippa to da Hoppa

My beats are slamming My beats are slamming from the rugged programming My man, Bob Marley, hey, my man, I'm jamming You could never touch the stamina while I'm ramming the- Hip-hop crowd makes me rah, rah, rah Other MCs got flipped with the ease Begging me for mercy, gon' stop the music please No, 'cause I'm a pro, rap to the convo Make a crowd say ho at a strip show Represent, my name is Ason, keep calm Rhyme's too smoky, funky like a stink bomb Boom, blowing up niggas better than pulling the trigger So you better run for cover Niggas gotta loosen they ass, felt the glass A 40-ounce bottle, yo, yo, yo, money, yo, pass I sweat it live Is he gonna live, doc? No, the nigga dies The maximum of MCs are populating The minimum of those MCs are dominating Now all that together now, to what? What? Who? Rhymes come stinky like a girl's poo-poo Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa Ah, shit, here I go once again Rhymes get shitty from the time that I spend I come old like toe fungus mold Ask my grand-pop, pop duke, gave me soul Then I came with that old Al Green shit Saa-die, taught me the ballistic I get you blurry in your eye with a high note Down, to the Brownsville, oops, you got smoked The shit I'm dropping is stinking up your area When I shoot it through like a messenger carrier I keep my breath smelling like shit, so I can get funky Baby, I'm not having it Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa Hippa to da hoppa and you just don't stoppa The Hellfire style Dragon fist Horse fist Bastard, I didn't know who you were