Song lyrics downloaded from: https://www.albumsongandlyrics.com ------------------------------------------ John Cena - Know the rep ------------------------------------------ [Freddie Foxxx a.k.a. Bumpy Knuckles] Hahahaha... Yīall know the rep, yeah, listen My name is Bumpy Knuckles, I write that fuckin flame And kill for the right price I got a buckin name My forty caliber too fresh, stuck in aim We roll like 18 wheelers in the truckin game Iīm nice with mics thereīs nothin more I like than to paralyze your left side and leave you all right I be layin front of your crib with Tec-y all night Tryin to get them 9 millimeters loaded up tight, listen Iīm like a Cadillac, I write a battle rap so smooth contest youīll be out of that Yīall know the beef is stewin, that Bumpy came to ruin You may be signed but you donīt know what the fuck you doin I make aight hot, I make dope raw And send you higher than a long Colt four-four You know the only rap pimp that kept a ho poor And slam a fool on his back and break the whole floor [Chorus: Bumpy Knuckles] A yes yes yīall, and you donīt stop We keep on, once the cops are gone This is real street spit you best be warned Tell your favorite MC the mic is on A yes yes yīall, and you donīt stop We keep on, once the cops are gone [John Cena] Yeah, yeah Itīs the J daddy, not Hovī or Jam Master My mic is correct, but yīall know the hands faster See you bitch rappers Iīm attackin the pile Yīall be cryin foul cause Iīm hackin your style I make sure you and your mans done When I see yīall both drop, Iīm the cat screamin And1 You see me on the team dog you know the gameīs over Stones on my wrist, and a chip on my shoulder Sixteens cashin in on another hot beat Go cop me a drop with the butterscotch seats And we better not meet, if we do you gonī see a change Make sure you whole FACE gettin rearranged We rollin up in the blacked out truck dog Itīs Freddie Foxxx, now you deal with Corrupt Mob Itīs gas on the fire, any time a track blaze Squad known to beef up the Heat, just like the Shaq trade [Tha Trademarc] This my 9 to 5, this ainīt no hobby cat Copycat killers bite styles, my rhyme piles is heavy Give me a beat, man Iīll body that Spittin that heat street raps man they nod to that What you smilin at? You R&B, man thatīs hardly rap You lost the beat, man you bought a map Matter fact, hereīs my next rap, borrow that Been off the street too long, I want my corner back You ainīt a player, you a armchair quarterback You ride the beat like side streets on a flat Donīt play dumb, I know where you came from You only seen slugs buddy after the rain come Keep it subtle, Trademarc got you bitch like babies suckin tits talkin ībout mami letīs cuddle Itīs gonī be what itīs gonī be, you duck down A quiet cat with a violent rap, what now? [Chorus]