|
(feat. Tracey Lee, Antoniette, Jim Hydro) |
|
[Yogi] |
|
Aiyo I used to roll 30 deep thru the Boogie Down |
|
Now it's just me, my tech and like 30 rounds |
|
Plus the Rhythim Blunt stuck up, mutha uck |
|
[The Might Ha:] (Hit him the head Voo) |
|
Word to Uncle Buck |
|
[Antionette] |
|
Aiyo, bring up ya weight, make moves state to state |
|
No debate, Antionette's been hot since '88 |
|
What? Niggas floss since I made Who's The Boss |
|
Big Yog, had the stove, now the Holocaust is mad drama |
|
Mad scama, drinkin Bahama mammas, |
|
Eatin niggas up like Jeffrey Dhama |
|
Illegal self dirty cats, niggas duckin down from the claps |
|
No shorts, no acts |
|
Sittin pretty like Frank Nitty, forgive me |
|
New York shit is in me, mad love for my city |
|
All hail the Queen of the C.R.U. |
|
My peeps call me too, they killin till I'm thru |
|
Get hit between the eye like Moe Green with the shit that ya fiend |
|
Hold the scars up with Mabeline, check the seed |
|
Young dums laced impressed me, buts how I get the lex with the she |
|
Aiyo I used to be shy, but now I speak my mind |
|
I used to pack eights, but now I pack a nine |
|
I used to the girl known for dissin MC Lyte |
|
But now that shit is squashed and everything's allright |
|
I used to be a female that was straight up hardcore |
|
Flipped R&B just to hit the dance floor |
|
Figured out quick that's as soft as I can get |
|
But now I'm back and harder than a dick |
|
[Tracey Lee] |
|
Shit is sick, so hit ahead nigga |
|
No run of the mill nigga, but a real nigga |
|
With flows wetter than gold diggers |
|
I flow niggas like Frank Glims the name list |
|
L-Rocks, for all the changes |
|
But the game with the game flow |
|
Playin to Pakistan |
|
Last of the real premiere nigga with the mass appeal |
|
Niggas know the fact, that I got mad skills then Hova |
|
Mic like a rover, R.N.F. for life, I told ya |
|
I set off like the bridge is over |
|
A wild nigga who be killin more cats than Villanova |
|
Hittin in ease with lyrical styles open willies |
|
Than sippin on fifth sarilly, in the sixth under series |
|
You know the staff with me, is suppose to blast with me & bullshit |
|
That comes out of the mic, from studio pulls to pull pitts |
|
With full clips, get devoured like that |
|
Count stacks, and house niggas with the power like snaps |
|
Rollin hard deep, to weak niggas who wanna start beef |
|
Me and the Cru, this how we do it in the East, muthafucka |
|
[Chadeeo] |
|
Now let me tell ya niggas, what's really goin on |
|
Lyrical tornados, hurned and brainstormed |
|
But I flows for now, and gunfire later |
|
Leave a hole in you the size of a crater |
|
Rape paper chase, got lives gettin erased |
|
Now I grab mics, plugged them in front of my face |
|
Represent Cru, with rhymes or gunsparks |
|
Whatever it takes nigga, till death do us part |
|
[Jim Hydro] |
|
When my Cru be comin thru, ya better recognize |
|
You don't know the steez, then analize |
|
Niggas be playin, so if they want flag |
|
We hit the tags, and the black R rags |
|
I got the steel, to keep it real |
|
Stayin strapped, with the gats |
|
Puerto Ricans and blacks, we heat sacks and bluntz yes I know |
|
One to the two to the Jim Hydro |
|
[Chadeeo] |
|
Bringin it down a level on the lay back side |
|
This chaz attitude is a Jeckel & Hyde |
|
With no matter what, you step up |
|
Aiyo my wild side, will have to arrupt |
|
[Yogi] |
|
Cuz we comin equip with the loaded Bronx Bomber |
|
Ya wanna step up better wear a suit of armor |
|
And the bulletproof vest, if you try to see me |
|
The Rhythim Blunt a smoke ya then grab a Bakakeemi |