Ain't No Thang Songtext
von Jesse Jaymes

It′s Jesse James and he's in control
He might be white but he′s got some soul
So put your headphones on 'cause you're in for a treat
And yo Matt, man, drop that funky ass beat

It′s as easy as pie, have a slice as I get nice on the mic
Say more rhymes in a minute than rice
Slice a rapper in sections with a vocal reflection
Make you nod your head like you just had a heroin injection

Beats slam like you′re dropping a bag of sand
I got so much pull I could drag a man
Hip-hop fanatic, you could say an addict
'Cause I got to have it, when I get dramatic fans get ecstatic
It′s automatic like a 25


They hear this white kid rap and they say, "Yo, money's live"
But to me it′s no sweat, it's like a pastime
You could rhyme the whole nine yards and won′t outlast mine
In a run for your money you wouldn't win a food stamp
'Cause I′m the champ to boost a party like a powered amp
If it ain′t got that swing, let me know and I'll bring
A funky style to the beat ′cause it ain't no thing

It ain′t no thing

Try to roll up, you better roll on like Speed Stick

Slow up, speedy 'cause I got what you need quick
Fast in a hurry, words blast past in a blurry streak
The strong survive, the meek MCs worry
They get nervous as dandruff
You′re a bluff, you don't scare me just 'cause you stand tough
You′re Froot Loop, you′re soft like a toot from a flute
And you get the boot and I'm your substitute

So step aside while I ride on the track like a bike
I′m selling records 'cause I peddle the mic
Take a new route or take a new beat
This ain′t a through street, you was led in to a dead end
Jesse James, not the one that got the fame
By robbing a train but the kid that drove the crowd insane
Yo, it's plain and simple so peep the swing
I rhyme on the mic ′cause it ain't no thing

I got this down to a science


I use the microphone like a household appliance
Defiance'll only get you stretched out on a stretcher

I saw the fear in your eyes when I first met ya
So I sweat ya and you′re dripping wet
You′re hot and I've heard that you′re so hip and yet
Your rhymes sound like your little sister wrote 'em, man
Dull and bland, cheap and off-brand
But my lyrics are like a breath of fresh air through the window
As the record on the table spins slow
So get your bodyguard or your backup squad
They try to look hard but I know that′s just a facade

So I disregard all your comments
'Cause they make no sense, so I′ll commence
To do the shit that makes the crowd wanna swing

It ain't no thing but a chicken wing

It ain't no thing