|
[Intro] Def Squad
|
|
Hah! Yo this ain't nuthin' but rock shit
|
I don't think ya'll niggaz can't keep up with this!
|
FUCK ALL YOU MUTHAFUCKAZ!
|
FUCK YOU! Hah!
|
I don't think they can get with it!
|
There's too much shit goin' on!
|
Yo yo yo yo yo
|
|
[Verse] Redman
|
|
I was chillin' up ??? Dog Deluxe
|
Rockin' diamond and G with the rooftop cut
|
I'ma grown man don't got no time for games 'n stuff
|
I got balls that'll beat ya ollets 21 rough
|
Look at my face, Doc's the name, don't forget it
|
I makes ya make ya scream: "BOW!"
|
Like my name's Willie, I get sick with it
|
Re-dig with it, I had a nine inch slug up
|
Before yo' stink bitch bit it, I betta clippin' crap
|
That ya'll cats is black, a prays if the eight jacks
|
So send neck thru facts, resevoir (---) go ball when I was four
|
Explore whores, when rock came to the door
|
You never seen before, life to your hood
|
My steady shows leave niggaz faxs like Rosewood
|
When I drop the filth weather, bigga built
|
Our dog fucked the shit outta bitch, of Tiger Mill
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
You drinkin', I'm drinkin'
|
You smokin', I'm smokin'
|
You freakin', I'm freakin'
|
You fuckin', we fuckin'
|
You fucked up, we fucked up
|
We make it, we take it
|
You hate me, I hate you
|
You talk shit, I talk shit
|
|
[Verse] Erick Sermon
|
|
In a flash I be the E, cat 'n mouse and cash
|
Not many ballin' niggaz out there, can touch my style!
|
Or touch the S-class, the 5-00 sittin' on parrellies, chrome
|
The big 2-0, catch the pitcher, my whole rap steez is deep
|
For all ya fake dues, I'm the only show that peeps
|
Last week I was uptown, playin' the streets
|
????????1-5-fifth and get...BUDDAH
|
That's when I do, when I roll dolo, I call her bitch
|
There was a time if I ain't doin' that, I ain't doin' shit
|
I might go to the studio and make a hit
|
I call my baby's moms, an hear her talk shit
|
I scoop, I ain't get my kids, niggaz please
|
We hit Toys 'r Rus and then Micky D's
|
And go to a movie, the end (of) the day, and talk to 'em
|
And take 'em back around away, and that's REAL!
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Verse] Keith Murray
|
|
Well it's the sly Gemini, me and potatoe cuttin' drops
|
Have the guy, wellknown but still just gettin' by
|
And I verify mathematics don't lie nigga
|
Put in some work, and get a piece of the pie
|
It be the niggaz that don't immediate pertain to the situation
|
That be tryin' to come up off the chips, and niggaz makin'
|
And always worried if I'ma diss you, you insecure bitch
|
To the government, stay out my shit!
|
Niggaz was glad when I came with the keys to the chains
|
To the cellblock to the stage, now it's time to rock
|
I return like I never left, D-E-F, got the whole world gaspin' for breath
|
We got these hoes spread it out like mustard
|
I ask flava and chop, they said: "Yo, don't trust it"
|
No, no no noo
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
You Do I Do
|
| Def Squad |
