Artist: Apocalipps
Album:  Smokefest
Song:   Radio Take Over
Typed by: pneumatic

[Intro: Apocalipps]
Yeah, Your boy Apocalipps is definitely in the buildin
Of Ruthless Bastardz, Yo

[Chorus: Apocalipps]
Yo if your tuned in, An your station aint rockin it
Call em up and curse em out and them tell em through on Apocalipps
He got that proper shit, Niggas yall should be coppin this
Matter fact there he go right now, Watch the shit

[Apocalipps]
I swerve to the right, I pulled up to the curb in the vipe
Rims so sick, I made this cat Earl in his Nikes
And I heard it was like, 20 cats twirlin up bikes
I had the brown Benz to match my glass of bourbon with ice
I finally made it, And fuck all these niggas that playa hated, (What)
Look at us now, Source covers, Grace through the pages, (Uh huh)
Facials from Asians, Model dames blazin up pages (What)
Masterous slangin, Bangin, On your favorite station
When I aint racin CVRs or in whips, That's chromed out
Catch me at arenas, Doin shows that's sold out, (What next)
Pour the Mols out, These cats they only fuck with Dom
Ayo Ma, You finished with that lame, Come fuck with a Don
And I don't watch hoes, I watch paper, (What else) And beat Jacob, (Uh huh)
Lazy all your life sleepin on Lipps, Now wake up (Let's go)
They say the best name us, (Uh huh) Mickey couldn't lace us
Save that kiddy shit for Bow Wow and A+, (Yeah)
Betty Crocker couldn't teach me how to cook a cake up (Uh huh)
And all these record labels hate us, They wanna break us (Nope)
But don't make us choose between freedom and jail
Find you at the bottom of a lake with your feet in a pail
Of concrete, Palm heat, Slugs leavin you pale
And my palms be so hot they'll turn the heat up in hell, (Damn)
But I got ice that could light up the heavens
I got 20 Gs to spare so I might just roll some dice with a peasant
And let him win, Fuck it, Stop up the bank, Bet again
Album release, I treat him like David and let him in, (Ahhaha)
But not the talk show, Beef come I aint tryna talk yo
Beatin dudes perminently dumb, Forever talk slow
Shot hit your upper torso, Shred up your snorkel
Step on your chest like who the man, Yeah I thought so

[Chorus]

[Outro: Apocalipps]
Yeah, Staten Island
You know I got yall, I promise
I'ma bring the ring home