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"Better Than The Best" lyrics by MURS
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"Better Than The Best"


[Intro: Murs - talking]:
We on? I still ain't got no Twix. Candy.
"I can't help myself"
Man, that would be the best.

[Verse 1:]
My name is M-U-R-S
Hailing from the far west
Killafornia, California, L.A. Ahhh Yes
You may have heard of us
We all ain't murderers
Drive by shooters
You can kick it on the curb with us
We got blue skies
We got palm trees
We got boulevards
Beaches with a calm breeze
As far as MCs
I'm the best of 'em
Only five nine
It's above all the rest of 'em
I mean we got Dogg and we got Cube
Everybody with this blue and the red feud
Man these dudes always trying to kill somethin'
I'm putting words together hopin' that you feel somethin'
Tryin' to put that pride back into the black music
You can clap to it in your Lac or your Buick (do it)
I had to do it cause nobody else can
Couldn't beat anybody other than myself man

[Chorus: x2]
The best to ever do it
The best that ever did it
Murs is better than your favorite rapper, admit it
Better than your best
Y'all best to forget it
Murs is better than your favorite rapper admit it

[Verse 2:]
Look
I'm shaking babies
And I'm kissing hands
Jumpin' in the crowd going crazy with my fans
I stand alone
Don't need anyone
But it takes two so I'm going home with anyone
And y'all ladies that's looking like Christina
Milian or Ricci I could really take either
Blond girls, black girls, Asian girls, whatever
I never met a girl that I didn't like ever
Double negative
That means I'm positively
The best rapper that you ever heard obviously
Never heard of me you didn't listen hard enough
Been moving weight on your block like a garbage truck
No trash rap
I'm moving past that
I won't crack rap just to get the ASCAP
I feel a change comin'
I got the game runnin'
Back to the lab now they all trying to say somethin'

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3:]
I write songs
Y'all write 16s
Need to grow up, stop playin' with them kid's things
You gotta a permit
A license to kill
Was making y'all money when I didn't have a deal (for real)
In on the real
Still workin' for the white man
Even if you is moving that white, man
Ayyyyyyye
Y'all rhyme the same word
No matter what you say man it's just absurd
Ohhhhhh
And I never been served
Not in the drive thru
Not even on the curb (Hell naw)
Not a warrant, not even a subpoena
Not even peanuts in a sold out arena
That's why you salty
The fans exalt me
Why you over yonder throwin' hate trying to halt me
Man I won't stop, my grind won't pause
I'm moving positive circles like a round of applause

[Chorus x2]

[Outro:]
Thank you for all for comin' out. I liked to thank Nottz. I'd like to thank Vic for stayin' up late. I'd like to thank my bad ass god daughters for gettin' on my nerve all damn day.
And me still comin' to work and doin' my job which is to be, the best.
The bestest. That's a word, cause I said so. Thank you very much.

[Thanks to tim nelson (timm2014@hotmail.com) for these lyrics]

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