| It’s that shit, it’s that hardcore shit
|
| Who is it, it’s the second hand record man
|
| Blowin' smoke in your face, you catchin' second hand
|
| Make you choke off the toke like a bowtie
|
| I smoke the hash every day, look I’m so high
|
| Alchemist chop the beat like, Oh my
|
| We got another hit straight out the goldmine
|
| In New York I make a phone call and go get it
|
| In California I just walk up in the fuckin' clinic
|
| And get medicated, smoke a blunt and start meditating
|
| Criss Angel levitating, I’m dedicating
|
| This to all beat diggers and groupies that sleep with us
|
| After the show, peace bitches
|
| Grab the Henny, we goin' back to the telly
|
| I’ma urine on your face and take a crap on your belly
|
| And do the R. Kelly, now take a shower ho
|
| It’s too powerful
|
| You know how it is, when you’re walkin' down the corner
|
| Kickin' it on maron doner, streets is hotter than a sauna
|
| Don’t matter if you in New York or California
|
| It’s all about making that payola
|
| And if you try to stunt we’re gonna run up on ya on some Dirty Harry shit
|
| You try to pull a fast one, fuck around hold your fam for ransom
|
| Smash you in your face with a .44 Magnum
|
| To all the fake cats try’na hate, cocksuckers bragging like they got that cake
|
| You ain’t an OG from the old school, bitch nigga broke the number one rule
|
| Fuckin' wit' jakes, yapping away, dropping jewels
|
| Now I’m here to regulate, dead you on your papes and wait
|
| Put a hole in your face, and you won’t be recognized at your wake
|
| Fuckin' snake
|
| Out of order, these motherfuckers cannot manage
|
| Slap 'em up and wrap 'em up just like a bandage
|
| Innovative, I animate on the canvas
|
| Work magic, crash the board like Kurt Rambis
|
| On the rebound, sit on the throne, no need to be crowned
|
| It’s the reign now, get it poppin' soon as I lay the beat down
|
| Steamroller the pebbles level the street down
|
| Impossible for me to turn the heat down, the switch broke
|
| Circle through a cloud of marijuana spliff smoke
|
| Clip though, I bully foot over tracks, you tip-toe
|
| Display butter flavor like a rich Nabisco
|
| I punch hits, working with my fists like Klitschko
|
| I rapidly pitch, gorilla pimp, open handedly slap a bitch
|
| Material sewn without a stitch
|
| Gets me riches, diamonds, cars, valuables
|
| How we do, your crusty foot’s not equipped to fit inside of my Bally shoe
|
| I roll up to keep the doctor away
|
| I never met Doc Drew but met Doc Dre
|
| Never Doc J in my '86 weapons
|
| To every session, shot the lane and lit the entrance
|
| It’s E to the V, I see myself like the world does
|
| Picture that can’t stand still until the world buzz
|
| Riddle never solved till he stated the solution
|
| Before drug smuggle you was covered in pollution
|
| Runnin' round town without a buzz until you got one
|
| Spot blown like he never had an option
|
| Buildin' up the base in empty lots that pop up
|
| The new sheriff got a shotgun
|
| Yo I ain’t makeshift and this is coming straight from the basement
|
| We are the best, nothing in life will ever change, kid
|
| You never know when the table turn aces
|
| Trading places, Kenny Powers, K-Swiss |