Weak Ideas - O.C., Page The Hand Grenade

Another

Rapper drops.

«He sounds dope.

He gets props, but he’s

Overrated.»

Ayyo, where does the Buck stop?

It stops here when Page the Hand Grenade starts to flow

I got the tools.

Rapping school?

I’m on the honor roll

Real emcees attack the wack, but real

Emcees sit back, relax, let Page blast the trash

It’s my turn to burn.

They deserve to learn

Take away their deals.

Who said that these herbs could earn?

Buck attacks, he starts from scratch and plays

The butcher, I kick backs, he did the track—that man got

Got mad clients while some rappers be lying.

That’s why

I burn rappers, but that’s similar to an appliance in the

Kitchen.

Buck with 1200's no suspicion, you know

This shit is real.

Don’t front, there’s no conflictions

I get heated when other rappers act superior

Now we can battle or we could cause «Mass Hysteria»

Some of you’ve been trying to write rhymes for years

Simple, ain’t it?

But quite clever

Is this the best that you can make?

But weak ideas irritating my ears

Ayyo

Page, you right.

Give me the mic and let me ignite

A mere spark.

We’re smelling blood like shark.

Let’s take it

To the park, back in the stage, engage in battle

Rappers telling tales, but, in jails, they tattle

Fiction, libbing off with the diction.

Now you done

Caused me and this nigga to rub you off with some friction

Ready to defend?

We aren’t your old lyrical hero

Never a ratio when upon your radio

I painted, he stained it.

Thoughts infinite, we gon' win it

Page’ll be on the scene in one huffy minute

No, kid, I think the rappers in front of you fainted

(«Simple, ain’t it? But quite clever»)

Some of you’ve been trying to write rhymes for years

Simple, ain’t it?

But quite clever

Is this the best that you can make?

But weak ideas irritating my ears

Now, every time I kick a rhyme, I sound dope

I don’t brag or boast.

Most emcees can’t flow

It’s their fault that they can’t talk to music

I got the voice plus the sound and acoustics

«Who's this?»

Well, it’s Page.

I got two clips

Of rhyme ammunition.

Sit down—you can’t do shit

Who’s the one that assumes he could rhyme?

We could

Pull out loot or we could battle for studio time

You renege ‘cause you know that your rhyme sucks

Didn’t O.C.

tell y’all niggas that y’all «Time's Up»?

Y’all didn’t listen.

It’s time to start flipping

End your composition or end up in the kitchen

You’ll feel heat.

Ain’t it obvious?

I’m still deep

I’m always up, writing rhymes, I can’t get real sleep

Open your ears.

I kick the flavor for my peers

(«But weak ideas irritating my ears»)

Some of you’ve been trying to write rhymes for years

Simple, ain’t it?

But quite clever

Is this the best that you can make?

But weak ideas irritating my ears