| Intro/chorus: rock
|
| Iz you wit me. |
| Yo throw your hands in the air!
|
| All my thugs and soldiers, fuck it even players
|
| Whether you hate us or you show us love
|
| No matter what you do money, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Iz you wit me. |
| Yo throw your hands in the air!
|
| All my thugs and soldiers, fuck it even players
|
| Crooks, willies, pimps, all my sons
|
| No matter what you do baby, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Verse one: method
|
| Yo, light another, and elevate on this one my brother
|
| Respect mine like my baby mother
|
| I shine when it rain, the sky’s cryin for all the black youth
|
| That’s dyin, I heard he went out clutchin his iron
|
| And in the mist the slugs flyin, one burst
|
| He kissed the dirt, not knowin he was touched at first
|
| Or badly hurt, it’s all science, another nigga merked
|
| Kid snatched his purse and his work, left nuttin
|
| But the shells on the turf, the situation’s worse
|
| A lot of bitch ass niggas is comin out they skirts
|
| Cause it’s real, not everyone can rhyme and get a deal
|
| Not everyone can shine and make a meal
|
| So johnny carry nine in the steel, one in the head
|
| For all them fuckheads, leave that ass for dead nuff said
|
| Don’t be mistaken, or mislead, it’s all peace
|
| But when my baby’s gotta get fed, I’m all teeth
|
| Bitin down on the bullet now, bloodshed
|
| I cop my herb from a knotty dread, and live this life
|
| On the edge nigga. |
| One time for your fuckin-ass mind
|
| Cause-o, can you deal?
|
| Chorus: rock
|
| Wu-tang are you wit me, well throw your hands in the air!
|
| All my soldiers, thugs, fuck it even players
|
| Heads on lockdown and those on the run
|
| No matter what you do money, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Verse two: ruck
|
| Aiyyo peep the stamina, of the main brain splattera
|
| In a matter of seconds I’m disrespectin your character
|
| What’s the matter ya niggas ain’t ready for the massacre
|
| I’ll be slappin y’all niggas in the face with the calibre
|
| You like the voice baby? |
| Ruck is the choice lately
|
| Slap a hoe in the grapple hold just like royce gracie
|
| My boys pay me no mind, for the shit I say lately
|
| Then deep down in they heart, they think that nigga ruck is crazy
|
| Maybe, y’all niggas should just chill before I fuck you up
|
| I can snuff a duck nigga in the face with the uppercut
|
| What the fuck? |
| Y’all niggas do it the mic ruin
|
| Your life by screwin, your wife now cruisin
|
| Affect with the motherfuckin grimy style
|
| Meth-tical, heltah skeltah for the ninety-now
|
| Remind me how, the way it used to be, yo you used to be
|
| Better than you is on the mic, but now you losing me
|
| Chorus: rock
|
| So iz you wit me? |
| Well throw your hands in the air!
|
| All my soldiers, thugs, fuck it even players
|
| Whether you rap for a living or sell drugs for funds
|
| No matter what you do, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Verse three: rock
|
| Son I used to be a good boy, fat cheeks, little cute kid
|
| Potentially rebellious yet a straight a student
|
| I listened to my elders til I found out they was stupid
|
| What they told me had me broke and bummy, time for some new shit
|
| Now, I hold mo' concealed heat than acapulco
|
| Ricans in bushwick call me rocko, el mano loco
|
| Got a fo'-fo' to make thugs sing like k-ci and jojo
|
| Packin ever since mamma rock said gunz was a no-no
|
| We don’t need those doe, street cats don’t need gats
|
| Six-five, from the nba, many niggas be that
|
| So try me, like mutumbo you can’t get shit by me
|
| Send you to E. Are. |
| Son with broke ankles like allen ivey. |
| Hehe
|
| Hold that thought for a minute
|
| And watch your shorty before I run up in it I admit it
|
| I’m like sprite, image got you shaken, thinkin I’m jamaican
|
| But it’s thirst that’ll get your jewelry and dough taken
|
| Fuck batman and robin, I’m robbin with a bat man
|
| Chase niggas like chevy for makin wack jams
|
| Hit hard as a dick after a lapdance, ask any sean price
|
| In alcatraz fan, they’ll tell you watch the jabbin
|
| Chorus: rock
|
| So iz you wit me? |
| Well throw your hands in the air!
|
| All my soldiers, thugs, fuck it even players
|
| Gods, earths, and cons, crips and bloods
|
| No matter what you do money, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Iz you wit me? |
| Well throw your hands in the air!
|
| All my soldiers, thugs, fuck it even players
|
| M. F. C., killa beez and my outlaw thugs
|
| Armaggedeon soon come, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Stack your gunz 'n onez, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Heltah skeltah come soon, be prepared motherfucker
|
| Stack your gunz 'n onez, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Cause ain’t nobody safe motherfucker
|
| Stack your gunz 'n onez, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Marvelous, armaggedeon, heltah skeltah
|
| Stack your gunz 'n onez, stack your gunz 'n onez
|
| Same shit |