Clueless Fuck Clue lyrics

* soon to be on Hostile Takeover



"We here to talk about that nigga DJ Clue, so you know..."

"You ain`t nothin, all you do is spin records, that`s all you do

Who he think he is? DJ Quik? Huh? Kid Capri?"



[Verse One]

I open up Blaze and see these bums all dissin` me

Ernesto don`t have a Clue like Unsolved Mysteries

When my album drops I`ll be runnin` y`all industry

See me in person bet I get respect from y`all instantly

Fuck y`all sympathy - I call your bluff like card-playing

Now you on the phone with those other faggot A&R`s sayin`

"My bad, yo! I ain`t know how butta he could be"

Next month you like ("New exclusive shit! Jugga The Bully!!!")

Got folk askin` me "Why you got beef with Clue?

That dude got friends..." That`s cool, I got people too

What I`m supposed to do? He gave me a wack write up

Misrepresentin` mine knowin` that it`s phat like butts

This nigga couldn`t scratch a record in a cat fight plus

Your album sucks - wishin` you could rap like Touch

You just juggle some nuts to get a few exclusives

And thought no one could tell you wack, what the fuck is you stupid?

I question your skills, trashin` every mag that got you in it

And I swear never heard nothin` hot you blended

On my block you finished - I`m ambitious and vicious

And you gonna fall cuz real Hip Hoppers can`t stand bitches



Chorus:

You don`t have a Clue

When you disrespect the Dirty South this how we do

Got everyone from here to overseas dissin` too

You don`t get no respect here so, Fuuuuuuck Clue!!



[Verse Two]

I heard Clue`s hatin` - ya words in Blaze is circulatin`

You ain`t all that - niggas got you gased like service stations

In addition, your tapes got too much reverberation

You fucked up and brought an ATLien Earth invasion

What, you didn`t understand the story?

"First Contact`s" a metaphor about weed, nigga - it`s self explanitory

Guess you ain`t get it - that`s what I expect though

Fuck ya mix tape - you ain`t special, Ms. Ernesto

With all that echo - tapes headed straight for trash cans

I seen you live - you couldn`t mix if your name was Tascam

Screamin` on all ya tapes to cover up all the mistakes

That`s why you never in DJ battles - you`d prolly get raped

Put the plates on - what the FUCK you waitin` on?

Got ya head spinnin` like those twelve hundreds you fakin` on

Puff made you, then that nigga Jigga saved you

Interscope paid you - now Jugga the Bully just played you

I got no beef with artists gettin` run on ya tapes

But if they retaliate - then they, too, gettin` punched in the face

I heard you spin CD`s anyway - what`s that shit?

Lately your tapes ain`t been bangin` - it`s just wack shit

So fuck you - I won`t even mention those other A&R`s

Tryin` to clone stars so broke they can`t even afford cars

I`m going far regardless - catchin` wreck over beats

You just mad cause ya ass don`t get no respect on the streets

Yeah...I expected to see that lump that`s in ya throat...

I give ya A&R job two to three months at Interscope

My shit is dope - kill that noise and try me

You the only deejay couldn`t scratch if the wax had poison ivy



Chorus



[Verse Three]

I guess you must`ve felt threatened by mine

Either that or you too dumb to understand what I said in my rhyme

The song was complex, Clue didn`t comprehend the context

While everyone who does is sweatin`, complementin` concepts

You got yours, why you hatin` on mine?

And I know you got back so fuck the gats this rap is breakin` ya spine

I`m glad you dissed me - and I still got love for New York City

But this nigga`s soft like titties - DJ Clue`s a sissy

Similar to some of the emcees on that wack shit he play

Fuck the gay rapper - Clue`s the faggot deejay

Dis The Bully? You nuts like the condoms I skeet in

You wouldn`t know original livin` in the Garden of Eden

So pardon the beefin` but I got issues with dude

Not only are your tapes Common, but the bitch is in you

That`s why my real niggas no longer listen to you

The President or The Professional? Which is it, Clue?

It ain`t President cause you got no campaign funds

If it won`t for Jay-Z, where would you get your champagne from?

It ain`t Professional cause your whole steez is amateur night

You wanted action? Well, you got it like camera lights

Don`t reply - not even Teamsters can manage to strike

Got the soundman pissed cause I damaged the mic

It`s like this: Recognize nigga get ya shit straight

And I might STILL supply exclusives for ya WEAK mix-tapes....



Chorus



Outro:

Big head nigga, fuck you, I`ll break your fuckin` fingers

How `bout that? Know what I`m sayin`? Scratch you with your own needle

Plus nail your turntables down on your knuckles

Don`t even matter, talkin` about JUGGA the BULLY

Talkin` `bout my shit`s wack, you didn`t even listen to the shit

If you did, you woulda known what the shit was about

Wouldn`t a said that bullshit, know what I`m sayin?

Atlantis UnderWorld, save that clone rap shit

Y`all niggas suck dick for, it`s that real shit

I`m tellin` you right now, man, don`t even play that bullshit

Motherfucker diss me, talkin` about I`m wack?

That shit y`all heard was just wack, what the fuck?!?

Ignorant ass motherfuckers, man

I`ma show y`all motherfuckers how to do shit in the new millenium

Continuum, baby, DJ Kno rocked this fuckin track for y`all motherfuckers

This what y`all motherfuckers wanted to hear?

You bitch ass nigga, it`s the same fuckin` shit

But this time it`s directed at your bitch ass... Word up
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