The Animal

[Verse 1: Phonte] I heard your style and I peeped you nigga Your whole album I sleep through nigga 'Cuz 'Te's an avalanche so call an ambulance And tell 'em to pick up ya people nigga Don't call Farrakhan to squash it Better yet call the sheriff And the coroner's office Tell 'em there's a dead body In the corner of Lawson In Austin, I would proceed with caution These motherfucka's really think the 'Te done lost it He sold a couple records now they thinkin' he flossin' But I ain't stopped battling, I just stopped rattling Off rhymes for free 'cuz y'all were making me nauseous Understand fucka I'm gon' win regardless I still got the hunger pangs from my apartment When me and 9th were both splittin' cans of StarKist Arguing about who LP was the hardest And a hand full of CD's ready to burn Some real hip hop for your listening nerves A year later hooked up with a nigga named Murs Now everybody play our records for they women and churn J. League got the East coast getting the loot Living Legends on the West coast, ready to shoot Get a cell phone and call up the troops Phonte, tailor-made for the game, y'all just following suit [Chorus: Joe Scudda & Phonte] Ayo, the animals, ready for war, destined for combat Play the CD or tape and then rewind that You want beef, motherfucker, never mind that And if he owe me money, bitch nigga better find that We animals, ready for war, destined for combat Play the CD or tape and then rewind that So mighty Murs, where ya mind at? (What!) [Verse 2: Murs] Murs 3:16 meets Foreign Exchange Keep ya ear to the speaker, quit ignoring the names Welcome to the next level, top floor in the game The League done hooked up with a Cloverdale nigga so Skip your Sidekick, I'm a Nextel nigga If I hit ya on the chirp, with a verse you better roger that Picture word-perfect from the land where the Dodgers at Trying to get some money with some pussy on the side of that Never have to ask where my killas or my riders at But when fake gangstas try to find where them dollars at Go to any city where there's pretty broads to holla at The illest in your state, one on the tour-date And more-great, than your grandfather's father 'Te I know it gotta hurt 'em as they stand by the slaughter Oughta be locked away when I rock this way Get rocked on the airwaves but not for play If my heart should stop and I drop today I went against all odds and I got my way [Chorus: Joe Scudda & Phonte] Ayo, the animals, ready for war, destined for combat Play the CD or tape and then rewind that You want beef, motherfucker, never mind that And if he owe me money, bitch nigga better find that We animals, ready for war, destined for combat Play the CD or tape and then rewind that So let me know where ya mind at (What!)