| Song | Slap Boxing |
| Artist | Sean Price |
| Artist | YoungStar |
| Artist | Rock |
| Album | Monkey Barz |
| 作曲 : Bush, Evans, Maxmillion, Price | |
| (Sean Price) | |
| My son got a gun, I say shoot, that's where the gat'll spray | |
| Make these faggot niggaz go that a way, run | |
| Your fab five is jumping, big knives, guns, bats and sticks | |
| Fuck all that rapping shit | |
| Give a fuck about your bar with the verse, put pa in a hearse | |
| Best bet is throw your car in reverse | |
| You can act up if you want, clapped up in ya front | |
| Pull ya chest and ya back, skit left hooded laugh | |
| Y'all niggaz do the row when I rhyme | |
| Matter fact use a gun when I rhyme, yo | |
| I throw shots from the back of the rover | |
| Chickenwing Bob Backlund, that tag on your sofa | |
| Niggaz actin' like they don't know Sean, til I | |
| Run up on 'em, smack 'em up with the fo'fo nam | |
| Focus the fire, throw shots, hopin' you die smokin' | |
| Alot after the toast is retired, motherfucker | |
| (Rustee Juxx) | |
| Yo, fucking with Juxx, you already know what crime it is | |
| Hard body beat breaking, that's what kinda rhyme it is | |
| Kingston Ave., you already know who grind it is | |
| Black beretta, special opt, that's what kinda nine it is | |
| Body the wax, first I grab 'em by the neck | |
| Then I throw the sawed shotty to back | |
| Cold blooded, black hearted, swing the mac retarded | |
| My weed clientele, excel my crack market | |
| Shawshank swangeler, monster track mangler | |
| Wild cowboy, two hosters on my wrangler's | |
| Barbarian, I'm a savage, street viking | |
| Bullet street striking, faster than grease lightning | |
| Spit volcano, rain, hail, fire | |
| Cuz misery sell millions, and pain sell hater | |
| Fiend for the foam, my throne is indestructable | |
| Niggaz like 'word, son, them niggaz cant fuck with | |
| you' | |
| (Rock) | |
| Aiyo, I shake the ground when I walk | |
| I mean I shake the town when I walk | |
| Flip pound and lay you down for your thoughts | |
| Lay you on the ground with your thoughts | |
| Have your thoughts all over the ground in the park | |
| Make a sound when I talk | |
| Shhhh, it is the greatest, underrated MC | |
| Niggaz hate but don't say it to me | |
| They get chased in a tree | |
| The moves you make in the piece | |
| Ready to get Jason to be like - damn | |
| keep these niggaz away from the grease, please | |
| Bad news, gun click; you die, yo | |
| You want good news, switch to Geico | |
| A nigga fight me gettin his eye closed | |
| And his shine stole, not you pa, your shit rhinestones | |
| Think I don't know huh? Your jewelry corny | |
| It's cornier than cream corn and your team corny | |
| Ya whole fleet boring, born with a heat seaking pistol | |
| Locked on nigga jaw piece | |
| For talking that 'I can give and talk and see' | |
| Boy something like a phenomenon | |
| That's why, some shit's like a feel arm my strong | |
| It's like the "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" | |
| Bitch, they get used to rhyme and stunt, they wanna give it the anus | |
| And bring it down, now, wow, how bout | |
| Fuck it, let 'em chow down on dick with sauerkraut | |
| Whyle out, have it come to the heaters, down South | |
| Roundhouse, any bitch, you get caught in the Brown Brown | |
| Brownsville! |
| zuò qǔ : Bush, Evans, Maxmillion, Price | |
| Sean Price | |
| My son got a gun, I say shoot, that' s where the gat' ll spray | |
| Make these faggot niggaz go that a way, run | |
| Your fab five is jumping, big knives, guns, bats and sticks | |
| Fuck all that rapping shit | |
| Give a fuck about your bar with the verse, put pa in a hearse | |
| Best bet is throw your car in reverse | |
| You can act up if you want, clapped up in ya front | |
| Pull ya chest and ya back, skit left hooded laugh | |
| Y' all niggaz do the row when I rhyme | |
| Matter fact use a gun when I rhyme, yo | |
| I throw shots from the back of the rover | |
| Chickenwing Bob Backlund, that tag on your sofa | |
| Niggaz actin' like they don' t know Sean, til I | |
| Run up on ' em, smack ' em up with the fo' fo nam | |
| Focus the fire, throw shots, hopin' you die smokin' | |
| Alot after the toast is retired, motherfucker | |
| Rustee Juxx | |
| Yo, fucking with Juxx, you already know what crime it is | |
| Hard body beat breaking, that' s what kinda rhyme it is | |
| Kingston Ave., you already know who grind it is | |
| Black beretta, special opt, that' s what kinda nine it is | |
| Body the wax, first I grab ' em by the neck | |
| Then I throw the sawed shotty to back | |
| Cold blooded, black hearted, swing the mac retarded | |
| My weed clientele, excel my crack market | |
| Shawshank swangeler, monster track mangler | |
| Wild cowboy, two hosters on my wrangler' s | |
| Barbarian, I' m a savage, street viking | |
| Bullet street striking, faster than grease lightning | |
| Spit volcano, rain, hail, fire | |
| Cuz misery sell millions, and pain sell hater | |
| Fiend for the foam, my throne is indestructable | |
| Niggaz like ' word, son, them niggaz cant fuck with | |
| you' | |
| Rock | |
| Aiyo, I shake the ground when I walk | |
| I mean I shake the town when I walk | |
| Flip pound and lay you down for your thoughts | |
| Lay you on the ground with your thoughts | |
| Have your thoughts all over the ground in the park | |
| Make a sound when I talk | |
| Shhhh, it is the greatest, underrated MC | |
| Niggaz hate but don' t say it to me | |
| They get chased in a tree | |
| The moves you make in the piece | |
| Ready to get Jason to be like damn | |
| keep these niggaz away from the grease, please | |
| Bad news, gun click you die, yo | |
| You want good news, switch to Geico | |
| A nigga fight me gettin his eye closed | |
| And his shine stole, not you pa, your shit rhinestones | |
| Think I don' t know huh? Your jewelry corny | |
| It' s cornier than cream corn and your team corny | |
| Ya whole fleet boring, born with a heat seaking pistol | |
| Locked on nigga jaw piece | |
| For talking that ' I can give and talk and see' | |
| Boy something like a phenomenon | |
| That' s why, some shit' s like a feel arm my strong | |
| It' s like the " Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" | |
| Bitch, they get used to rhyme and stunt, they wanna give it the anus | |
| And bring it down, now, wow, how bout | |
| Fuck it, let ' em chow down on dick with sauerkraut | |
| Whyle out, have it come to the heaters, down South | |
| Roundhouse, any bitch, you get caught in the Brown Brown | |
| Brownsville! |