(feat. Icarus, Red Cafe, Sy Scott)
|
|
[Sy Scott]
|
Yo, I'm a tic-tac-toe tactical wit it tactician
|
Tit for tat, three bombs on me, we all ticking
|
Schizophrenic, up in the kitchen
|
With a black fifth up against my head, just, click, click, clickin' it
|
We check the barrel and start respinnin' it
|
We I start, medics, start sowing and restitching them
|
My constituents and scorpions poisonous stingers filled with opium
|
Stay grippin'' em, I've got a venomous heart, filled with vigilance
|
That will shatter ten continents and ten palatinates
|
Envision the vengefulness, visualize the vindictiveness
|
I rhyme with Sid Vicious viciousness
|
You be kiddin, soft like kittens
|
My grills are pit bulls they will kill when I say sick'em
|
Restrain me, restrict me
|
I'm arresting resistance, can't be apprehended nigga
|
|
[Chorus]
|
You got a problem with E
|
If you got a problem, come a holla at me
|
And if you want it, we can get it started
|
Plus I got the whole squad siding with me
|
|
[Icarus]
|
Let the catty spray and wet up the matinee
|
Smack niggaz with both hands like patty-cake
|
Violate and I will retaliate
|
I don't battle fake niggaz, I'm heavyweight nigga
|
GMG, fam, we gladly hotta
|
Behold the sorcerer's stone like Harry Potter
|
And I'm like harry potta, we scary riders
|
Can't get near the dadda, I swear to God I'll come find where you hidin'
|
Have my high, finding beamers and ninas
|
Leave the area shot up, you hearing me patna
|
I'm a fucking five star general, to drive cars into you
|
Ic' dodge interviews, one flip of the mack, take all ten of you
|
This message intended to, who's ever offended duke
|
Yeah you my nigga, but you could still get it too
|
So don't test me, I don't wanna do this shit to you
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Red Cafe]
|
Live from the NY state
|
And I got one question, guess what's in my waste
|
Ya'll got me pisted off slick talk
|
To get that Jacob watch, I'll cut your wrist off
|
I'm in the limo too long to turn
|
And this motherfuckin' dutch taking long to burn
|
I'm impatient, this is a song you learn
|
Make money, take money, and I'm hear to confirm my occupation
|
The new boss of course, the new Porsche
|
I pull up just to murder you niggaz and move off
|
You too soft, Red Cafe from New York
|
I tell a bitch quick, I'm hot can't cool off
|
I twist lesbos, and and guzzling out exos
|
My firearms stick to my waste like Velcro
|
It's R.C. nothing phony about me, with E double the O.G. you know me
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Erick Sermon]
|
Yeah I know, you never expect me to anchor
|
I bring it to them so called pranksters and them gangsters
|
I run DMCs, from rappers that's petter piper
|
I am the big apple, ain't nobody ripper man
|
I'm not M.J. I'm a lover and a fighter
|
That's why I'm in D.C. now, looking for the sniper
|
I came in the game with hoodies and timberlands
|
Hard since Cypress Hill been wanting to kill a man
|
I did time, a thirteen year bid
|
I'm gutter E, I'm hanging on the side of crib
|
I'm a fan, but I hate what you're doing
|
Whenever you performing shows it's me booing
|
Ya as soft as your bid-die, you punk now, and you gonna be a punk at sixty
|
Dog, ya need more team to get me
|
I'm a G, and my Unit come through like Fifty
|
|
[Chorus x2]
|
|
-----------------
|
S.O.D.
|
Erick Sermon |