Put It In Writing featuring Ricko Capito & K9 Lyrics (by Funky DL)
Chorus x2 [Amy / DL]
Put it in writing, but who you writing for?
[For just yourself? I’d like to know, I do]
Verse One [DL]
Uh, too many rappers steady writing bullshit
Coming up with old shit and saying its new shit
Every word they writes an inch away from stupid
Who they think is gone be listening to they music?
Nobody cares and nobody profits
Cos when they put pen to paper yo it’s catastrophic You an artist now you got a blank sheet of paper?
Isn’t it your job to paint a picture like a painter?
Instead they on some pancake flow Little fruity in the middle so they fan base grow Talking all kinds of rubbish so they band makes doe If they got a hit record probably can’t make more
[Them niggas need to stop] it’s called the hand brake flow
Take a seat yo’ they need to plan they flow So the general public can relate to what they wrote Cos it ain’t like they writing yo its like they make notes and then they…
Verse Two [Ricko]
Yo, man are talking bout things that they never done
Until Karma forces them to get a gun
Man are coming for your funds cos you said that you sell a tonne
And on the strip you’re a veteran
Okay, the flows bait, you’re so fake
Fuck biters I brush teef’s no Colgate
Trust me, under pressure
Them man’ll crack like the pilot in Soulplane
Now here’s a little task for the known lames
How about trying to ride in your own lane?
You ain’t wavy, I can see it in your boat race
Skills, no frills, meaning you have no taste
So now you’re looking at a next mans life
Constructing your lines through a next mans eyes
Trying to fool the masses with the next mans vibe
That’s like stunting in the next mans ride [echo]
Verse Three [K9]
I’m like tell me who you writing for?
I think your rhymes are poor
I don’t believe what you’re saying so why the talk?
You just lying to yourself to try and get the wealth
But everything you say blood, I ignore
Cos you guys are all feeding me the lies
But I can’t be scammed, I can read between the lines
Stop cheating on the mic, you think that it’s easily disguised
But we ain’t believing all the hype
I just speak what’s on the mind and put it in words
Some say that I’m sick with the similes, metaphors
Adjectives, nouns and I’m good with the verbs
Trying to get what I fully deserve
So would you prefer a real artist telling you the truth?
Every time he gets up in the booth?
Or would you rather listen to a bredduh’ that is loose?
Spitting the fiction and telling you “whatever” on a tune [echo]