Clean-Enemy

Clean - Enemy I see I'm peeking out ready to rumble So now I'm speaking out Against those that flip the way the story goes One never knows who be flippin' the script Whatever the traitors name My aim is dunk 'em like I'm Chris Webber So many phony smilin' faces, traces of slander Got 'em comin' outta funny places I had it an hear 'em Talkin' 'loud behind my back What was good for the hood Is what they say is wack I take the stabbin' grin when I'm hit 'Cause I know the suckas smile When I leave 'em, what I'm comin' wit' I can't complain about the money Although the suckas in the back They talkin' sh*t And laughin' like it's somethin' funny I aim to make changes and never change Unless it's for the better 'Cause I always been a go better Clean hustler, rhyme instead of muscle ya Born when ya thinkin' I'm gone The terror era is on I stand accused to the crews I paid my dues, I stand accused I refuse to stand and lose I stand accused to the news I kick da blues, I stand accused I refuse, I hear 'em talkin' and walkin' Behind my back I'm attacked F**k the knife in the back 'Cause it feels like they got an axe Yeah, I can dig it wit' a shovel I never dig dirt wit the Devil Instead I'm on that other level But I took time to reach down To help the black and brown I never stood around I hear 'em talkin' behind my mind In a ocean of sharks And a back full a hackmarks They say I'm fallin' off Yeah, they better call it off And get muscle And find another hustle quick Sick and tired of critics But I can take a hit, I'm all man Alley oopin' the vocal on jams But they don't know it, they can blow it And take a puff of dis joint I see I'm kissin' it off the cuff Behind the back I'm pullin' axes and blades Out the arms and the legs Still my fellas get paid The terror era is on F**k a critic, f**k f**k a critic All the f**kin' critics Can get the did dit All a f**kin' critic does is Draw a f**kin' line Cross a line and dis my rhyme And then they a** is mine If you find a critic dead Remember what I said Who killed a critic Guess the crew did it Say paybacks a crazy a** message Sent to the writers who criticize They're f**kin' wit' a freedom fighter Who raises flags And dragged the klan in bodybags I hung 'em up in Mississippi and bum f**k This is Chuck so what the hell You think I did it for To open doors from Carolina to Arkansas And lemme let 'em, I met 'em I told my boys forget 'em And what they did got rid of me, negative But 94 got stunts and blunts in da mix I hear the crowd fallin' vic To old ghetto tricks but if I wasn't your cousin We'd leave 'em in the dozens Of sellin' out and bellin' out Half pint forty ounce Announce to the rest We had a fall out I never took a drink Never took a hit or bribe Or got spread by what a silly Rumor said Never sang or gang banged Sold out or rented hip hop 'Cause I know when to stop