[Intro: DJ Clue]
William, nigga
Yeah, DJ Clue, Desert Storm
You know how we do things
Q-U-double E-N Radio
And the question of the day
Is who, and what you rep?
Caller number one, you on the line
[Verse 1: Prodigy]
Ayo its P, big chunky forty inch chains
I could fuck your woman, but I prefer brains (Uh-huh)
I could duff you out with guns and bang
I'm a certified, bonafied, Mobb nigga man
This ain't no '87 rap battle (Nah)
This is 2001, blood sport, nigga I'll get at you (Get 'em)
This is criminal shit, I'm so infamous
I'm so gangsta, these niggas be nervous
When we pop up, your knees lock up (What?)
Your stomach catch butterflies and your heart pumps (What?)
You s'posed to be scared, you s'posed to beware
When you see me, get the fuck out my way, nigga, I'm in here (Faggots)
And I ain't come for the glamour and glitz (Nah)
I came to fuck you up bad, get drunk and find me a bitch (That's right)
So where you at, girl? Holla at the kid (Holla, holla)
'Fore I slay one of these lame niggas in here, straight up
[Interlude: DJ Clue]
Yeah
Caller number two
You on the line
[Verse 2: Queen Pen]
I got some raps for the streets, my niggas pack the heat
My soldiers on the corner crushin' up green weed
For all of the generations of mothers ridin' the trains
To work for y'all crackers for that bullshit pay
I reps for my head that cop his weight
That take trips uptown just to cop his haze
I rep for them chicks givin' brain in the rain
That ain't scared to be a freak, for the right pay
I gots to rep for my families that's stricken with pain
For buryin' they boys too soon to this game
I rep for my panthers that's locked away
Innocent on death row, countin' down them days
I rep for y'all bitches that work lizzie bags
That sell hot shit half price off the tag
I rep for them chicks that write they own shit
That live this life I live to write they own shit
Its 2001, bitch, stop frontin'
I rep for my baby mamas that's still walkin'
I rep for them chicks collectin' PA and WIC
Up in them hair and nail spots makin off the book chips
I rep body snatchers, loyalty over passion
I'm married to BS, bitch, ain't no question
[Interlude: Cam'ron & DJ Clue]
Killa, uh, uh (Haha, get at me)
Caller number three, you on the line (Killa, uh)
[Verse 3: Cam'ron]
I rep money get, girls step like, "Cam you rock a lotta Prada"
Looked at hon' and said, "Bitch, I'm 'bout a dollar", holla
I don't like it anyway, I feel Escada's hotter
Won't get a, get a good dog, got her, got her
Course Cam is into links and clips
Jay say, "Belvedere," now y'all drinkin the shit, please
Oh my god, brother, followin' is not gutter
It's amazin', trendsetters from you cock suckers
Insurance on my diamonds, my rocks covered
If I'm with a bitch, believe me I do not love her
I'ma wrap it like a doobie or spliff
My Uzi a click, yeah, I did a movie, a flick
But I step to the director like, "Look, I'm not bitchin'"
Understand this, homeboy, I'm not snitchin'
Killa Cam still be back in the hood
Back where I should, plus I can act that good
I could cook that coke, get them figures
I could bust that gat, strip some niggas
No homo, 'cause my life ain't no motion picture
Motion triggers to open livers, cock the pump
Pop the trunk, I drive 'em to the ocean, nigga
Peel 'em apart, let 'em know he dealin' with sharks
Killa, P-Double, Queen Pen, Lee Low
[Outro: DJ Clue]
Yeah, DJ Clue
You know how we do things
Q-U-double E-N Radio
And the question of the day
What you rep?
