[Intro: Some movie]
About a quart though what you got
Word’s out
Contracts to find and dispose of you
[Verse 1: Vic Spencer]
Uh
I done really made a turnaround
I pull up on ya block, smack the guy that's playing ya’ music and make him turn it down
Wire ya’ ass with the spikes on it
Lookin’ at the price tags, you got tight money
You shook at the proof
Throw a fuckin’ book at the youth
It took a while for me to smile when they took out my tooth (Ah)
No hook in the booth, it’s all verses
Y’all gon’ say it’s not a song, then I’ma pop ya’ dome, you rappers in ya’ mama's home
Own chrome, own spokes, no jokes
Take notes, take the earthquake, shake with a quote
Forget everything but never forgivе the cheddar we gеt
It’s not apart when the Beretta was split
Rocking a jacket with the letters and shit, you shopping Fashion Nova (Ha)
I stumped the life outta the fattest cobra
This is the static culture
I stand tall with the brassiest soldiers
On ya’ grave I put the ashiest roses (Mm)
When the sun go down, it’s not over
You smell gunsmoke, well we is used to the odor, we boosting the culture (Mm)
You equivalent to dead roaches (Fuck outta here mu’fucka)
I'm sick and tired of all y'all, how can I fall with wings
I’ma hit ya’ ass one time, you gon’ call on ya’ team
Ya’ camp lookin like a few vixens
I spew at rooted visions
I don’t give a fuck if you don’t chose to listen (Nah)
I make rude decisions
I rock rude at a Marlboro convention with a new port stuck to my mouth
I'm from the era where we snuck in the house
My first girlfriend got her titty sucked on the couch, you underdig me
Went from humping with my clothes on to really feeling it
Everyday I’m real, you better fucking deal with it
If I’m freezing up the game, then you better bring a cellar bitch
You underdig me
[Interlude: Some movie]
I got some pressing business in the street, sick of your shadow on my neck. Drop it
Yeah
Spencer warned you once but you not getting it
Either you find some hard evidence that I laid a hammer on, work, or get off the phone
I saw you
You saw a tall brown man in the dark of the night?
And the moon’s made out of green cheese
Last time my opic maned
You keep charging at me and we gon’ be all up in a nursery rhyme
[Verse 2: Sonnyjim]
I’m Jim Duggan with the hacksaw (Hm)
On the Metro, tryna find my passport
I’m heavy handed with the port
We got a mad rapport, you a big fan, Michael Rapaport
I’m mad skills with the rap up core
Got mad skills, I could wrap up raw (Uh)
I’m self taught (Real)
The bars are heavy like a cell door, shots in the roll, I Connect 4
Hit the Bom Diggy
Big high with the steak and kidney
[?] (Ching)
God bless the dead, RIP the greats
This shit is easy like a piece of cake
Can't nobody stop me (Nah), pour the sauce over the gnocchi
Dropping off a O of toffee
The shit sticky like taffy
At the [?] in the night trackie, lookin’ white trashy
