| 作词 : Credle, Foxxx, Martin | |
| (feat. Bumpy Knuckles (Freddie Foxxx)) | |
| [chorus] | |
| [BK] Yo O.C., are you ready to win the G? | |
| [OC] The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo Bumpy Knucks, are you ready to win the G? | |
| [BK] The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo O.C., are you ready to win the G? | |
| [OC] The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo Bumpy Knucks, are you ready to win the G? | |
| [BK] The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| [both] Comin home with me (comin home with me) comin home with me | |
| Rrrrahhhh! | |
| [Verse One: Bumpy Knuckles] | |
| Who got the hardest, MC style, ever created? | |
| Who got celebrity, status, and is still underrated? | |
| Who got them two glock nines that be black and nickel plated? | |
| And I'll blow a nigga's chest out, to keep me motivated | |
| My periphreal, sees MC's, that ain't nice with these | |
| So all my new rivalries'll be, MC robberies | |
| I got these niggaz shook like, Shake-N-Bake, cook like | |
| I knock your punk ass out, wake you up, and I show you | |
| What I look like, who's that MC, that thinks that he can fuck with | |
| F-R-E-D-D-I-E, excuse me, Bumpy Knucks | |
| I don't give a fuck, if it's friend or foe | |
| This shit is my job to let you niggaz know so don't take it personal | |
| When I stick this verse in you, I don't know what you gon' do | |
| Even if you get your crew I'll walk through the stage | |
| Like it's Hoe Stroll Avenue, tappin on them pockets | |
| Puttin tabs on your revenue, now dig this | |
| It's mad niggaz that be thinkin they nice with they flow | |
| It's mad niggaz that be frontin like they holdin some dough | |
| It's mad niggaz that'll challenge me and after the show | |
| They Don't Wanna Be Players no mo', like Joe | |
| Niggaz try and come at me, with contemporary gangsta | |
| Fusion I'm smashin with the simple shit I'm usin | |
| Bashin and bruisin, who's in charge, BUMPY | |
| Step up in my face I leave your forehead LUMPY | |
| [chorus] | |
| [Verse Two: O.C.] | |
| I bring the pain like a slice to your vein, fuck your fame | |
| Platinum and gold plate, don't hold no weight | |
| I be that, prophetic soul drainer, ain't a motherfucker | |
| In his right mind steppin in my cipher tryin to take mine | |
| From West coast to East I'm full-fledged | |
| Bust the science, niggaz better know the ledge | |
| O see all, I G off, enemy I spot you | |
| Two rhymes to my one verse, you go first | |
| You tasteless face it, I engrave my name in your scalp | |
| Like Damien, out for world domination | |
| Don't get me wrong, I don't represent 666 figures | |
| I'm just out to make figures | |
| Who holds the threshold, to be the best | |
| I crunch niggaz with my gold teeth like, vegetables | |
| Carniverous deliverance, murder one nemesis | |
| Like a virgin, I snatch your innocence | |
| Talkin bank robberies when you rhyme, hold up | |
| You turn pussy on the mic when I roll up | |
| Coca-Cola, a fission like soda | |
| While you say butter, I'ma say Mazola | |
| Money folder hold a grudge cold like a polar bear | |
| Thug niggaz what? Blowin up spots like a SCUD | |
| Win the G.. win the G.. | |
| WIN THE G.. RRRRAHHHH! | |
| [Verse Three: Bumpy Knuckles] | |
| Who's that New York nigga left, that be nice like B.I. | |
| G.I., niggaz can't see I, see why? | |
| You new poppin niggaz, and you crew hoppin niggaz | |
| Step up in my face, and Bumpy be, 2Pa-cin niggaz | |
| If this bitch up in yo' heart, I'ma find it | |
| If you think I'm talkin to you, then just rewind it | |
| I got six shots behind this, even with a vest on | |
| Ya yellin, because I aim for the melon | |
| I'm a felon, and I bet you never, been in a fight | |
| Kinda like you really, never said shit on this mic | |
| So if I diss a nigga hustlin that makes me a displayer | |
| And if you buy my record twice, that makes you a two-payer/toupee-er | |
| And if your girl like Donna Karan, that makes her a DK-er | |
| And cause I hate your punk ass, that don't make you no playa | |
| Without this record business shit you niggaz is broke as fuck | |
| Smokin weed smokin woolies while I smoke your luck | |
| And while your flow needs, medical aid | |
| I just appear on niggaz shit, and I still get paid | |
| Now where's my G nigga? | |
| [Verse Four: O.C.] | |
| What niggaz'll think they made of steel and wanna play brave? | |
| Bitch MC's will find theyself in the grave | |
| I make slaves of niggaz in ways never made | |
| Voice like an Ox or better yet sharp as a blade | |
| Intense the moment like sex when I'm bonin | |
| Iller than Caligula brainwashed the Romans | |
| I set it, let it be known, better beware, better be careful | |
| Who dared to oppose my phenomenal flows, how dare you? | |
| I smite your ass quick fast like Flash runnin past your ass | |
| Niggaz'll end up with whiplash | |
| But for the moment, I'm zonin, any opponents | |
| I'ma cut it short right now, because this rap shit we own it | |
| [BK] Come up off that cash nigga | |
| [applause] |
| zuo ci : Credle, Foxxx, Martin | |
| feat. Bumpy Knuckles Freddie Foxxx | |
| chorus | |
| BK Yo O. C., are you ready to win the G? | |
| OC The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo Bumpy Knucks, are you ready to win the G? | |
| BK The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo O. C., are you ready to win the G? | |
| OC The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo Bumpy Knucks, are you ready to win the G? | |
| BK The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| both Comin home with me comin home with me comin home with me | |
| Rrrrahhhh! | |
| Verse One: Bumpy Knuckles | |
| Who got the hardest, MC style, ever created? | |
| Who got celebrity, status, and is still underrated? | |
| Who got them two glock nines that be black and nickel plated? | |
| And I' ll blow a nigga' s chest out, to keep me motivated | |
| My periphreal, sees MC' s, that ain' t nice with these | |
| So all my new rivalries' ll be, MC robberies | |
| I got these niggaz shook like, ShakeNBake, cook like | |
| I knock your punk ass out, wake you up, and I show you | |
| What I look like, who' s that MC, that thinks that he can fuck with | |
| FREDDIE, excuse me, Bumpy Knucks | |
| I don' t give a fuck, if it' s friend or foe | |
| This shit is my job to let you niggaz know so don' t take it personal | |
| When I stick this verse in you, I don' t know what you gon' do | |
| Even if you get your crew I' ll walk through the stage | |
| Like it' s Hoe Stroll Avenue, tappin on them pockets | |
| Puttin tabs on your revenue, now dig this | |
| It' s mad niggaz that be thinkin they nice with they flow | |
| It' s mad niggaz that be frontin like they holdin some dough | |
| It' s mad niggaz that' ll challenge me and after the show | |
| They Don' t Wanna Be Players no mo', like Joe | |
| Niggaz try and come at me, with contemporary gangsta | |
| Fusion I' m smashin with the simple shit I' m usin | |
| Bashin and bruisin, who' s in charge, BUMPY | |
| Step up in my face I leave your forehead LUMPY | |
| chorus | |
| Verse Two: O. C. | |
| I bring the pain like a slice to your vein, fuck your fame | |
| Platinum and gold plate, don' t hold no weight | |
| I be that, prophetic soul drainer, ain' t a motherfucker | |
| In his right mind steppin in my cipher tryin to take mine | |
| From West coast to East I' m fullfledged | |
| Bust the science, niggaz better know the ledge | |
| O see all, I G off, enemy I spot you | |
| Two rhymes to my one verse, you go first | |
| You tasteless face it, I engrave my name in your scalp | |
| Like Damien, out for world domination | |
| Don' t get me wrong, I don' t represent 666 figures | |
| I' m just out to make figures | |
| Who holds the threshold, to be the best | |
| I crunch niggaz with my gold teeth like, vegetables | |
| Carniverous deliverance, murder one nemesis | |
| Like a virgin, I snatch your innocence | |
| Talkin bank robberies when you rhyme, hold up | |
| You turn pussy on the mic when I roll up | |
| CocaCola, a fission like soda | |
| While you say butter, I' ma say Mazola | |
| Money folder hold a grudge cold like a polar bear | |
| Thug niggaz what? Blowin up spots like a SCUD | |
| Win the G.. win the G.. | |
| WIN THE G.. RRRRAHHHH! | |
| Verse Three: Bumpy Knuckles | |
| Who' s that New York nigga left, that be nice like B. I. | |
| G. I., niggaz can' t see I, see why? | |
| You new poppin niggaz, and you crew hoppin niggaz | |
| Step up in my face, and Bumpy be, 2Pacin niggaz | |
| If this bitch up in yo' heart, I' ma find it | |
| If you think I' m talkin to you, then just rewind it | |
| I got six shots behind this, even with a vest on | |
| Ya yellin, because I aim for the melon | |
| I' m a felon, and I bet you never, been in a fight | |
| Kinda like you really, never said shit on this mic | |
| So if I diss a nigga hustlin that makes me a displayer | |
| And if you buy my record twice, that makes you a twopayer toupeeer | |
| And if your girl like Donna Karan, that makes her a DKer | |
| And cause I hate your punk ass, that don' t make you no playa | |
| Without this record business shit you niggaz is broke as fuck | |
| Smokin weed smokin woolies while I smoke your luck | |
| And while your flow needs, medical aid | |
| I just appear on niggaz shit, and I still get paid | |
| Now where' s my G nigga? | |
| Verse Four: O. C. | |
| What niggaz' ll think they made of steel and wanna play brave? | |
| Bitch MC' s will find theyself in the grave | |
| I make slaves of niggaz in ways never made | |
| Voice like an Ox or better yet sharp as a blade | |
| Intense the moment like sex when I' m bonin | |
| Iller than Caligula brainwashed the Romans | |
| I set it, let it be known, better beware, better be careful | |
| Who dared to oppose my phenomenal flows, how dare you? | |
| I smite your ass quick fast like Flash runnin past your ass | |
| Niggaz' ll end up with whiplash | |
| But for the moment, I' m zonin, any opponents | |
| I' ma cut it short right now, because this rap shit we own it | |
| BK Come up off that cash nigga | |
| applause |
| zuò cí : Credle, Foxxx, Martin | |
| feat. Bumpy Knuckles Freddie Foxxx | |
| chorus | |
| BK Yo O. C., are you ready to win the G? | |
| OC The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo Bumpy Knucks, are you ready to win the G? | |
| BK The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo O. C., are you ready to win the G? | |
| OC The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| Yo Bumpy Knucks, are you ready to win the G? | |
| BK The Gusto is comin home with me | |
| both Comin home with me comin home with me comin home with me | |
| Rrrrahhhh! | |
| Verse One: Bumpy Knuckles | |
| Who got the hardest, MC style, ever created? | |
| Who got celebrity, status, and is still underrated? | |
| Who got them two glock nines that be black and nickel plated? | |
| And I' ll blow a nigga' s chest out, to keep me motivated | |
| My periphreal, sees MC' s, that ain' t nice with these | |
| So all my new rivalries' ll be, MC robberies | |
| I got these niggaz shook like, ShakeNBake, cook like | |
| I knock your punk ass out, wake you up, and I show you | |
| What I look like, who' s that MC, that thinks that he can fuck with | |
| FREDDIE, excuse me, Bumpy Knucks | |
| I don' t give a fuck, if it' s friend or foe | |
| This shit is my job to let you niggaz know so don' t take it personal | |
| When I stick this verse in you, I don' t know what you gon' do | |
| Even if you get your crew I' ll walk through the stage | |
| Like it' s Hoe Stroll Avenue, tappin on them pockets | |
| Puttin tabs on your revenue, now dig this | |
| It' s mad niggaz that be thinkin they nice with they flow | |
| It' s mad niggaz that be frontin like they holdin some dough | |
| It' s mad niggaz that' ll challenge me and after the show | |
| They Don' t Wanna Be Players no mo', like Joe | |
| Niggaz try and come at me, with contemporary gangsta | |
| Fusion I' m smashin with the simple shit I' m usin | |
| Bashin and bruisin, who' s in charge, BUMPY | |
| Step up in my face I leave your forehead LUMPY | |
| chorus | |
| Verse Two: O. C. | |
| I bring the pain like a slice to your vein, fuck your fame | |
| Platinum and gold plate, don' t hold no weight | |
| I be that, prophetic soul drainer, ain' t a motherfucker | |
| In his right mind steppin in my cipher tryin to take mine | |
| From West coast to East I' m fullfledged | |
| Bust the science, niggaz better know the ledge | |
| O see all, I G off, enemy I spot you | |
| Two rhymes to my one verse, you go first | |
| You tasteless face it, I engrave my name in your scalp | |
| Like Damien, out for world domination | |
| Don' t get me wrong, I don' t represent 666 figures | |
| I' m just out to make figures | |
| Who holds the threshold, to be the best | |
| I crunch niggaz with my gold teeth like, vegetables | |
| Carniverous deliverance, murder one nemesis | |
| Like a virgin, I snatch your innocence | |
| Talkin bank robberies when you rhyme, hold up | |
| You turn pussy on the mic when I roll up | |
| CocaCola, a fission like soda | |
| While you say butter, I' ma say Mazola | |
| Money folder hold a grudge cold like a polar bear | |
| Thug niggaz what? Blowin up spots like a SCUD | |
| Win the G.. win the G.. | |
| WIN THE G.. RRRRAHHHH! | |
| Verse Three: Bumpy Knuckles | |
| Who' s that New York nigga left, that be nice like B. I. | |
| G. I., niggaz can' t see I, see why? | |
| You new poppin niggaz, and you crew hoppin niggaz | |
| Step up in my face, and Bumpy be, 2Pacin niggaz | |
| If this bitch up in yo' heart, I' ma find it | |
| If you think I' m talkin to you, then just rewind it | |
| I got six shots behind this, even with a vest on | |
| Ya yellin, because I aim for the melon | |
| I' m a felon, and I bet you never, been in a fight | |
| Kinda like you really, never said shit on this mic | |
| So if I diss a nigga hustlin that makes me a displayer | |
| And if you buy my record twice, that makes you a twopayer toupeeer | |
| And if your girl like Donna Karan, that makes her a DKer | |
| And cause I hate your punk ass, that don' t make you no playa | |
| Without this record business shit you niggaz is broke as fuck | |
| Smokin weed smokin woolies while I smoke your luck | |
| And while your flow needs, medical aid | |
| I just appear on niggaz shit, and I still get paid | |
| Now where' s my G nigga? | |
| Verse Four: O. C. | |
| What niggaz' ll think they made of steel and wanna play brave? | |
| Bitch MC' s will find theyself in the grave | |
| I make slaves of niggaz in ways never made | |
| Voice like an Ox or better yet sharp as a blade | |
| Intense the moment like sex when I' m bonin | |
| Iller than Caligula brainwashed the Romans | |
| I set it, let it be known, better beware, better be careful | |
| Who dared to oppose my phenomenal flows, how dare you? | |
| I smite your ass quick fast like Flash runnin past your ass | |
| Niggaz' ll end up with whiplash | |
| But for the moment, I' m zonin, any opponents | |
| I' ma cut it short right now, because this rap shit we own it | |
| BK Come up off that cash nigga | |
| applause |
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