| Asshole, asshole, asshole!
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| There’s like six bitch-ass niggaz on the corner Son
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| (Aiyyo word?) These niggaz is rappin, kickin raps n shit
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| Can’t tell these niggaz they ain’t hype
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| They punk smoove bullshit, just meet me downstairs Son
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| I’ma set it on these niggaz Son
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| Yo I’ma be right there man, I’m gettin dressed now
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| These niggaz have no idea Son, check it check it Verse One: Rock, Ruck
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| And one time for your mind, one time for the snitch droppin dime
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| Me don’t wanna hear you whine when my nine’s to your spine
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| Glock diss, Rocky, Mountain, energy’s from my fountain of youth runnin through my brain pounded
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| So don’t be found in my clutches
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| If you don’t who Sparsky is, then you don’t know who Dutch is Don’t get snuffed kid, we cause ruckus
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| And rock mad domes while we at it who’s the first up to see blackness like the universe
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| Fuck that, niggaz better start runnin for shelter
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| Live and direct with a nine tenth that’s that nigga from Heltah Skeltah
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| Word em up I murder ducks who never heard of Ruck plus
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| My mind ills on rhyme skills with the nine that I buck (blahhh)
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| Girls demand me, mad bitches I slam the
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| microphone you hand me till the judge remand me (what)
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| Can we, get along like Rodney, and Rock please
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| Put these niggaz in they proper place cause you cocky
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| I, be the drama bringer wringer of a niggaz neck
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| Wrecker of a set I buck shots with a steel tec
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| Wussy, where’s all them suckers talkin tracks bout they RnRin
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| (They heard us comin and turned to track stars, check it)
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| I be, never sloppy, I be ROTC
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| I rock heads from Bedrock to Yugoslav-ia
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| Robbin you and your crew blind yeah we do crimes
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| Find that Absolut’s fine, or in to behind
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| Now you whine, but yo stop the blood clot cryin
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| Like Screwface, I in the mood to bash your eyes in Devils does know who I am, madman from Heltah Skeltah
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| Mr. Flipster, ROCK, Grandson of Sam
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| As the World Turns in my search for tomorrow
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| I seek the God in life, for some insight
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| Freaky like a golden shower when my golden bowels
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| Hit instrumentals get influential like Colin Powell, now
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| Fuck the world, stick my dick in the dirt
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| Pull tunes on spooks who claim I ain’t cool like Levert
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| Expert when I network my lyrics like a rebel
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| Vexed cause the devil never take me to that next level
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| It’s never humble in asphault jungles
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| When you slang rocks and Ricans in back deal with bundles
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| Some may wonder, the evil these two men do, torment you
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| Lyrical landlord, your fuckin rent due
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| Clans, posses, crews and kliks
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| All y’all bitch niggaz can suck my dick
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| Kliks, posses, crews and clans
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| Can’t none of y’all niggaz fuck with me and my man
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| Verse Two: Rock, Ruck
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| Aiyyo, one’s for the, shots I pop
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| Two’s for the anti-real snakes I fought and dropped
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| Three’s for the irrational Ruck, bitch!
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| I be Rock and the four’s for hip-hop cause with this shit we rip shop
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| Ask me how foul I am, mannn you know damn well
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| it was me that hit your bitch up in my man’s van
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| Too plexed your grand-pops then like corn I pop shit
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| You can’t flush, fuckin with us you’re smacked with hock spit
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| Who dare square with Rock me I break you
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| Tree times worse dan a bumba claat earthquake do Heltah Skeltah is hectic hit the deck then step
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| if you wanna hear your neck click
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| See this center, but really play no basketball
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| I do my shootin with a motherfuckin mac you fall
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| To the floor, OGC hit up everything that come through the door
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| Recognize Heltah Skeltah mean war
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| So what’s the reason for the treason, punk you wanna die
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| My mind crucify those who try to defy
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| God cipher devine drop bombs on the blind
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| In the mood to get rude with the lyrics instead of my nine (hah)
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| Now I (what) want a nigga to come with hand skills
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| Man chill, might end up in a landfill
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| Stand still, nigga you know the position
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| Glocks clickin from niggaz who ain’t got pots to piss in Plus I get hyped when my mic strikes windpipes
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| Me and Rock is this tight (there'll never be no fist fights)
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| You’re lip punks when my fifth smokes the rich folks
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| who sniff coke, now your bitch broke ain’t no misquote
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| I just spoke, wicked ways with words of wisdom
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| Like Cyclops I spot fly shots with ill vision
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| Similar to none Son so it fuckin seem
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| Savages get sewn the fuck up with shots to they spleen
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| Chorus: repeat 4X |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Clan's, Posse's, Crew's & Clik's, artist - Heltah Skeltah. Album song Nocturnal, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп