Shotgun

[Intro] - And when you tell the cops, remember the turtle's parked - Smash and his crooked turtles left the bank with their bags of ill-gotten of money, and made their way to a supermarket... - Ahi-ya! - The crooked ninja turtle gang then broke open a safe in a jewelry store... - Ahi-ya! - Suzy Q, who the real turtles had just rescued last week, couldn’t believe what she was seeing! - You know, I thought they were such nice boys [Verse 1: Quelle Chris] Yeah, cold steak for smell, Colgate for stale Smooth Oil of Olay, roll [?] Guess it's the culture, death of the altered[?] Soon as you married into it, Rock of Gibralter So stock up your armor Talks of retiring make you alter How could you quit it when you been exalted Egos enormous Beagles not needed to sniff out the culprits They see the paw prints Lookin' like the presence of sasquatches Scooby Doo niggas, expose monsters Hit the book to cross reference the prophets Chillin’ like can't nobody see 'em Tinted windows, bizarre indos like some museum License to be ill, you wish you could be 'em My new M.O. is findin' new ammo to shoot at the pre-amps Stupid, ridiculous, your flash-photography can't see [?] Immortal, stunt raps Evel Knievel grunt raps [?] Feet grind at your hero Raisin' full DeNiro How you gon' be in the game when you’re zero and zero? Zero [Interlude 1] ...meanwhile in Central Park, two hoodlums are looking for their next victim [Verse 2: Danny Brown] Hip-hop fusebox High like your pop socks Your boy ’bout to bubble, like Cola and Pop Rocks Pop-offs in hotels, await in my pop's shop I shorter flavor bitch, my nuts just like a popshot Used to rock the locks in a box that I tape up Avoid the cops, with them rocks all in my tube-socks Now, I play the booth, stand in front of the pop-stars Block the studio, and break it down like the chop-shop Block hot like AZ, no A/C Crazy, know you think this beard all gravy Poppin’ these pills like the old Slim Shady 'Cause everyday skies gray like they held rain Play me, your ass'll fall off like McGrady Call a hoe a bitch and still treat her like a lady Navy blue Bim, Shermans tight on purpose A lot of niggas hate it, but nigga it ain't worth it [Interlude 2] ...meanwhile, two thugs holding clubs are threatening the check-out lady: - Okay, lady, put all your money in the bag - Eh, would that be paper or plastic? [Verse 3: Roc Marciano] Multi-million dollar dreams and schemes I’m still just a nigga from the P's with cheese Please, you drive cheap V's, your grime a complete [?] (Uhh) OZ's, when they bleed to defeat freaks Shit, you know cloth that I'm cut from 'Cause that shit is plus, son, like one of Puff's rugs (Wooh!) Got enough plugs, when Bloods show up with the gloves Beat you with clubs, like Crockett and Tubbs (Yup!) Pop slugs, seats in the ass, hot fudge Hoes hoppin' in hot tubs with thugs (What?) Doin' the dance, blue shoes and pants, blue glasses Two grandstands, food on the grass (Uhh) The traffic had that Afghan packed in the caravan Hooked up the plan, I'm just a travelin' man (Damn!) Make the bonus, baby you own us Slugs fly past niggas' face and shoulders Racin' in the lotus, I'm rollin' just erasin' the moment But I was just discussing the cake the niggas owed us (Uh!) Uh, word [Outro] - Meanwhile, in Central Park... - This sure is a slow day. We ain't mugged anybody for a whole half-hour - Relax, pal. Some poor sucker is bound to show up soon - Hahahaha - See. What did I tell ya? The ill-fated muggers walked over to a sudden arrival - Hiya, pal - Ah, where am I? - I got a better question. Like, how much money ya got in that stupid costume of yours? - Of course, I'm in the Big Apple