| Talk to me man…
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| This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the muh’fuckin noise up We’ll get right into the proceedings this evening
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| Headphones are distortin, bring it down a lil’bit
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| Okay — now we workin wit it The boy Face on the bassline, Face — Mob!
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| Welcome to New York City… it’s ya boy Young Hov’chea
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| Kanye West on the track (whoo!) Chi-Town, what’s goin on now?
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| Can I talk to y’all for a minute? |
| Lemme talk to y’all for a minute
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| Just gimme a minute of ya time baby — I don’t want much (whoo!)
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| Lemme talk to these muh’fuckas, uhh
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| Guess who’s bizack?
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| You still smellin crack in my clothes
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| Don’t make me have to relapse on these hoes
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| Take it back out to taxin them roads
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| When I was huggin it, niggaz couldn’t do nuttin wit it Straight from the oven wit it — came from the dirt
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| I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt
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| You can blame my old earth, for the shit she instilled in me Still with me, pain plus work
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| Shit she made me milk this game for all it’s worth
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| That’s right, these niggaz can’t fuck with me
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| I’m callin guts everytime, drag my nuts everytime
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| Homey, we make a great combination don’t we?
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| Me and the Face Mob, everytime we face-off
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| Face it y’all, y’all niggaz playin basic ball
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| I’m on the block like I’m eight feet tall
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| Homey, I’m in the drop with the AC on That’s why the, streets embrace me dawg, I’m so cool!
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| Guess who’s bizack?
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| Back on the block with the old Face Mob
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| Mack Mittens and Hov'
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| Don’t make me relapse
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| Back to the block with the fo'
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| Cuz this street shit is all I know
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| From the womb to the tomb — a hot pot of joy and a spoon
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| Tryna make me forty thousand and move
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| Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons
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| Plain clothes wanna run in my room (whooooo…)
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| But nigga guess who’s bizack? |
| It’s ya boy Face Mob
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| Started with an eightball, gotta get this cake dawg
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| Give niggaz a break, nah, you know how the game go Fuck you think I slang fo', to go against the grain (no)
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| I’m out here to grind mo', rapped up in the paper chase
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| I wanna fuck a fine hoe and candy paint the 88
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| Don’t got no wholesale, cuz that ain’t how I wanna run it Here take these five stones and bring a nigga back a hundred
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| Gotta see my feet dude, you do shit a fiend do The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool
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| Money is an issue — and that’s on the fa’shizzle my nizzle
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| Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle
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| And make fa’sho’I get to work mines, for part of the time
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| We go to war and you ain’t makin a dime (ha ha!)
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| Cuz I got, shit to lose — a nigga out here payin his dues
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| My baby walkin gotta get him some shoes
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| It’s a new game doin, lemme give ya the rules
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| Get outta line and I’ma give ya the blues
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| It’s a new game doin, lemme give ya the rules
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| Get outta line and I’ma give ya the blues, whoa!
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| Guess who’s bizack?
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| The boy B. Mizack — a.k.a. Mr. Crack-A-Brick
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| Turn a whole one from a half a brick, look I mastered this
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| You can smell it once the plastic rips
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| A hot plate’ll make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked
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| You can make ya chips swell up, ya don’t hafta pitch
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| Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch
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| Young’n never pump fake, and you’ll get past the blitz
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| And keep ya whole hood on flip — like on box-spring
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| Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of things
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| Strictly glassy shit — I hug the block like a quart of water
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| Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
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| Till like deuce in the mornin, with the old heads
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| Slangin loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted (had it)
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| Still fuckin with them crack addicts
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| Still bustin with that black-matic |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Guess Who's Back , by - Scarface. Song from the album Greatest Hits, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп