(Killah BH)
|
|
Uh oh, It's that time again, It's been too long, It's family reunion
|
|
(Joe Budden)
|
|
Mic check, mic check
|
|
(Killah BH)
|
|
We gotta school y'all to the game (one, two, one, two), you know what lets talk to em, Lets go!
|
|
(Joe Budden)
|
|
Them wolves is out *****
|
|
(Ransom)
|
|
Ain't nobody tryna rap or play me
|
I'll be at they crib wit a couple hammers and a black OAV
|
Black gon' pay me still get the smack on Baisly
|
'Cause I'm touchin' more diesel than Shaq old lady boy
|
You did it I done it I get I punish
|
The **** that I come wit'll separate a rib from a stomach
|
I'm the boss when I spit it you love matta fact I'm a Viking
|
I need a whole village to plumage yea
|
The ***** is here the city is scared
|
You got the throne then I think I need to sit in ya chair
|
We could really get physical here and the sky's the limit *****
|
I'll put the whole clique in the air baby
|
So quit playin' fore the clip spray 'em
|
And have his *** M.I.A. like Nick Saban
|
His whole **** caved in my whole clique cave men
|
Hardbody ***** my whole **** pavement
|
You can't spit if you dead in the ground
|
In the woods where ya head'll be found
|
And its good that you getting it now in the prescient confessin' it now
|
I can't **** wit the rest of you clowns ******
|
|
(Hitchcock)
|
|
I am the silence before the storm Lincoln Park to Audubon
|
Slang rock on the same block that the water on
|
I be more than gone run and get your order form
|
Next time I record a song gon' put my daughter on
|
'Cause she realla than most *****s I tote trigga
|
For you broke ***** and gold diggas wit no figga
|
That's why I palm the heater for all you non believers
|
I'm on ya *** like white on rice on Condoleezza
|
Betta con the preacher you tryna get on a feature
|
Betta get ya casket bastard I'm gon' eat cha
|
We ain't in the same weight class ya fake ***
|
Couldn't stop a ***** wit brake pads I'm way pass
|
Anything that you ever did I'm betta kid
|
And we never sweat a bid it's easy to get a sig
|
In the bing I'm like Ving Rhames I bring pain
|
I sling cane off the wing like I'm King James
|
Y'all doubtin' who when I spit the whole lead
|
They be callin' code read like Mountain Dew
|
'Fore I count to you can get cha back blown
|
'Cause ya gimmicks out of minutes like a track phone
|
Get back holmes I'm back on my ****
|
I don't mangle I'm like Pringles stackin my chips
|
Clappin' my fifth you the test me types
|
Comin' out wit a blade and get Wesley Sniped
|
So the cops could arrest me right it's not happenin'
|
You ain't never gon' get on so stop rappin'
|
H2O comin' this summer so stop askin'
|
All heat like wall street ya stock crashin'
|
Now the fed wanna read his rights
|
Lord have mercy Jesus Christ I got passion
|
I'm blackin' all my *****s getting this fetti
|
We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags in
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
So whatever you tryna do lil *****s I already done
|
And since you wanna live by it lil ***** then die by the gun
|
See whatever you tryna do lil *****s I already done
|
So how the **** you gon win lil ***** when I already won
|
|
(Fabolous)
|
|
Ayo money is the root of evil I thought
|
But when I'm broke is when I usually have the evilest thoughts
|
That's when the arms come out like sleeves when it's short
|
Wit more bullets than ya favorite wide receiver has caught
|
And that Randy Mossberg ya Steve Smith and Wesson ya
|
The shoes pop up like instant messenger
|
You've got mail nah ***** you got shells
|
And my Mac you can't use for iChat
|
A guy that confused that will lie flat
|
And my gat is on leg like thigh tap
|
I that ***** who you dudes
|
Some broke *****s who tryna get some youtube views
|
Unless you wanna point blank boy ya too close
|
Bails in pocket this is Lawyer Lou Los
|
I'm pretty sure more hotties see me in that foou door roddie
|
Double pipes like a sawed off shotty
|
|
(Joe Budden)
|
|
I flow sickly ridin' bumpin' old biggie
|
Roll wit me or lose wait Nicole Richie
|
**** plat if I don?t reach diamond fame
|
Ill treat a ***** face like that old simon game
|
I figured out why men try us 'cause we o-d on rims and thin tires
|
For that we Len Bias
|
All it takes a punch he |