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!)