Nine - Ova Confident [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Chorus] (x4)
"Who you gonna rip without that confidence?
I really believe you're weak and overconfident"

[Verse 1]
Run for the hills, but there's no escape
From my CD, my wax, my fat cassette tape
I'm great, like Alexander, or nearly gets real
When I hold a piece of steel and tell you how I feel
All over, toes are tapping, Bronx, Brooklyn, Island of Staten
Manhattan, Queens, South Central, Compton, Watts
Miami, Atlanta, I blow up mad spots
My name is Nine, recognize, remember you're too tender
To get slick with the number one contender
I flow like diarrhea when I'm dropping shit
Mamma mia, ain't no cure for the pure lyrical gonorrhea
Overconfidence is popping
I'm like the hourglass, turn me over and I still keep dropping
That old Nine flavor continues to pay the rent
After you hear me you won't be so overconfident

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
I hate to bust your bubble, but every single rapper's in trouble
I'm crazier than ever
I'm hungrier like a shark in the ocean full of legs after dark
I'mma tear shit apart, pull more strings than a harp
I'm cocky, like that, you know the time
Check the little hand, the big hand, tell me what you see
Nine o'clock on the f-ing dot
Pop goes the gat and if you ever knew me you'd remember that
Old school, new school, ain't nobody safe
New York to LA, I'm all over the place, with the base
Crazy gear like a clutch, I'm the most
When I touch the microphone your overconfidence is ghost
It's "Outta Here" like the $5000 love-seat
Egos crush when I'm rhyming to the beat
You attempt to fade me and hit me with a dent
So I'm stepping to you money cause I think you're overconfident

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
You thought you was the man, bad news kid
I never heard of you, or the bullshit you claim you did
You're phoney, full of baloney, like Oscar Mayer
The weiner, your style is artificial like Purina
Cat chow, meow, I'm on the prowl like Thurston Howl
And been on the island with mad cash, official cow
I got rhymes like you got bullshit
So you know my repertoire is thick with intice spits
Lyrically I'm so amazing like Luther
I hit the stage and get ugly like Medusa
And no place for delf, I ain't slamming
If it's with the real hip-hop, then it's props
That I'm demanding, understanding
My potential, hollow-tip lyrics
I'm shooting, aiming at your motherfucking mental
I'll leave you in a state of confusion, brain dead and stuck up
In other words all fucked up

[Chorus]