Exhibit C - Sir Buttah

Uploaded by BettaWithToast on 05.06.2012

Time is ticking, I gotta make em watch me My concentration is like a nazi, nobody gon
stop me Getting to the paper, like a chopped tree
Now everybody want piece, Ghandi I be, more like World Peace
The only thing you getting from me, is elbows to the teeth
Have you looking like Strahan, clay man, hey man
MOVE!!!!! get up out my way fam Before I go Ludacris, bruising shit, with
my straight jab Knock him to the ground, make him break dance
..Anything thrown my way, I catch it, with these great hands
That's why I'm still undefeated, like Floyd May damn
This is MayHAM, that's why I'm on body flow Bodying everybody, who try me on this audio
Higher than everybody, and I ain't even gotta smoke
Spitting in repetition, it sound like when a chopper blow
Spitting for recgonition, dirty south representin They say the south ain't built on lyrics,
I am the demolishion It's time to build my own shit, this is the
blueprint Don't need no fucking bricks, this shit is
built on the music I build it from the ground up, with my own
two and I do it so you know, I put my blood and tears
into it My heartbeats are beats, I breath these lyrics
The listeners like plants, we need each other for existance
..A lil bit of science, mixed in with the rhyming
I'm ready for my big break, like a teenager hymen
I'm in my own lane, with no hand on the wheel Cruise control, hand me a deal
I'm spitting that crack, on so many tracks, that I'm eager to sell
I want fans, more than people in hell All I needs a canvas for this art, this ain't
ramble, this is thought Shining light on the unseen, like candles
to the dark With precision of Cupid, when shooting arrows
to the heart But with this ammo I handle, I'm more like
Rambo when I spark See the damage that I cause, is like a critical
hit Super effective level 100, killing yo shit
I get it from all angles, on some spherical shit
Beat him until he scream for God, that's a miracle whip
But I ain't on no biblical shit, I'm on some cold heart Gotti Type
Stay with a badd bitch, I'm the full blown cocky type
While you beating your meat, you the full blown rocky type
Sounding like, Good Times, what I spit is dynomite
.....That's why my future shinning bright Ryhming like, I am Christ, you ain't even
kinda nice If you want it, you can get it my nigga
I'm spitting it realer, than anybody not in my mirror
That's me, I'll kill ya, if you disrespect my regime
And you won't get a single pass, bitch you not on my team
He claiming that he pack heat, but I know he lying
But when I clutch, he'll take more shots than Kobe Bryant
4-5 him, straight up go lion Ripping him apart, for the gold and the diamonds
Coldest alliance, enrolled with some giants Blowing your mind, heard the flow, you astonished
Yelling at these niggas, like I'm Meek Mill Never sell my soul to the devil, that's a
weak deal Nigga think I'm a hooker, they tryna get a
cheap thrill I ain't getting jacked, throw em down the
hill, to they see Jill Ain't a nigga breathing, fucking with me
This is too damn easy, I'm a muh fuckin genius I ain't talking loud voices, when I say I'm
Screaming I'm talking bout coming through, looking like
I'm trick or treating Tongue wagging like MJ, Gun flashing like
tittays Put the money in the basket, fore I blast
it at your fidace I'm talking lyrical robberies, lyrical hom'ies
Look at the bodies that I bag, when I blow lyrical shotties
I'm probably the best in the business, tryna be 'ever did it'
If ryhming was fitness, I'd have the body of a gymnast
Cause tracks, I run that, like a Simmons The fruit of my labor's forbidden.(what's
that).never to be bitten It must be a Holiday, everybody tryna visit
Tryna rob me like Thanksgiving, I'll light him up like it's Christmas
I remember, when I used to have wishlist Never got that microphone, so that wishlist,
turned to a hitlist ..Going through the names, like I'm taking
attendence With the mentality of Shang Tsung, niggas
get finished Well if it's about the dollar, don't try to
make sense Just pay me what you owe, and I'm expecting
every cent If I don't get it in time, I'ma leave a smelly
scent That's evidence, for the next nigga that owe
me rent Again this is rap, and I'm just spitting the
facts I should go in guiness, for what I just did
to this track My lyrical weaponry's mack tens, semis and
gats That got em addicted like heroine, liquor
and crack I trigger that effect, soon as I come into
play Kuriboh with the flow, nigga I'll fuck up
your day I'm like rain on your parade, summer with
no AC Big Momma in Soul Food, you will suffer defeat
Now see if you running shit...nigga I'm running this
Coming out the backfield, trucking niggas like I'm Emitt Smith
..I never quit, before that hammer song, I been legit
..A P.I.M.P. In Da Club..that's 50 Cent Something like a bag of chips, back in the
day Seen Billboard's top rap..that's a slap in
the face ..Feeling like it's out of my hands, so I
had to go pray ..That they pull a Pastor Ma$e, and start
backing away .Matter'a'fact, I'm grabbing the track, of
bastards who wack And out shinning them, at every fucking fascit
of rap