Intro:
|
|
Aight, 1-2 yeah yeah yeah (Yeah son)
|
On the mic one time (No diggedy)
|
for your motherfuckin mind
|
(*Ready to rock rough rhymes*----> Redman) Yeah
|
We're gonna set it off one time
|
(*Ready to rock rough rhymes*)
|
Here we go, yeah yeah
|
(Yo P, yo D why them bitches be on your dick, let em know son)
|
|
Verse 1: PMD, C-Dogg
|
|
Cos I does a little dance, make a little love
|
I get the fuck down tonight
|
Yo I'm lethal like injections, teachin niggas lessons
|
I fry that ass up like I'm Wessun
|
So come equipped and I don't slip (why?)
|
cos if you slip I sink that ass just like a ship
|
I got the mic in my grip, the heat is on my hip
|
just in case niggas wanna flip
|
I see my niggas in sight, everything aight
|
comin out of fuckin Crown Heights
|
Ain't no chips on my shoulder, strictly boulders
|
My shit be on point like a soldier
|
It's the evil that men do, who we do?
|
I do you and your whole fuckin clique
|
Click, the gun is on cock, niggas need to stop
|
I wet that ass up like a mop
|
|
Well lord, yeah just to follow my man on the verse
|
It's the C-Dogg yeah time to call a hearse
|
So back up off the mic and let me rumble thru your woofer
|
I got rough but know I'ma get rougher
|
It's the quart drinker so turn up the level
|
I came to get raw plus wicked like the devil
|
It's the no-hold-barred, shit is wild
|
I got the eye to the double L
|
and I don't be no rookie or no beginner
|
I gets badder than a motherfuckin sinner
|
|
Hook (x8):
|
|
(*Ready to rock rough rhymes*)
|
|
Verse 2: C-Dogg, PMD
|
|
Ready to rock rough rhymes
|
It's the C-Dogg back with 12 new rides
|
Wit the ill all-out tight shit for your head
|
It's the man that'll make nigga's rhymes proper dead
|
So get ready, always on my worst behaviour
|
Up in the booth yeah breakin mad flavors
|
So back up off the mic and let me show my skill
|
It's the Scheme, yeah niggas got to chill
|
Peace to my nigga DL wit the beat
|
and peace to all my niggas on Union Street
|
and to ya fake ass niggas keep on walkin
|
A DL year, the whole E is talkin
|
|
Oh yeah, bringin up the rear and we don't front (Never that nigga)
|
We're comin mad thick and we're on the hunt
|
So why you wanna test and end up in a mess
|
I'm comin mad wilder than the West
|
I leave you sooped like a sale, I never fail
|
I boost a track up like the third rail
|
Fake MC's endangered like a species
|
Your shit stinks like motherfuckin faeces
|
I'm chillin and relaxin in the maxin
|
Your style is improper like a fraction
|
Yo I'm out to get mine (Get yours nigga)
|
|
Hook
|
|
Verse 3: Dray, Books
|
|
Well lemme come and get a little bit, son I'm feelin it, it's the bubbly
|
Niggas know the deal I got the steel in case the trouble-be
|
Got more coupe-rs than Isuzu, kid I bruise you
|
abuse you, my sewer style will confuse you
|
I got the touch so niggas spark the Dutch
|
I'm guaranteed to rip and bend your microphone, now touch and plus
|
we kick that ass back up off just like a Lear
|
See ya and too bad I wouldn't wanna be ya
|
Y'know the deal when I see ya, nigga chalk it up
|
Cos if a nigga think he got the flow, I sop it up
|
So now get up so you can hear the rest of this
|
Yo Boogie Banger show them why we be the best at this
|
|
Yo, yo niggas bust this, a nigga do justice like day
|
We're walkin down the street, we're watchin bitches like slay
|
Niggas rave and rant but can't get it, dig it
|
Shit is on lock and motherfuckers can't pick it
|
I'm runnin with fools with more jewels than Freddy Blassy
|
My rap drivin niggas crazy like a taxi
|
Perhaps we should leave ya layin on ya back
|
I'm richer than Richie Rich and quicker with the gat, black!
|
For the cash I bash ya head to make ya stutter
|
Then I hit you with the toast for fuckin with bread and butter, cousin
|
Nigga a-hah, laugh then stash the tracy
|
The limit's the sky, I'm stayin high like aces
|
but doper, my styles is fat like Al Roker
|
Chiggity choke a nigga to sleep, I don't know ya
|
Biggity blow your mind, fuck the beef and fuck the swine
|
Nigga I'm
|
|
Hook
|
|
Son, ha, diggy Das, diggy Das, diggy Das
|
Solid Scheme, word bond son (Shit come thick)
|
Y'nah how we do!
|
|
-----------------
|
Read |