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[Sean Price] |
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Ayo, listen |
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Big word halitosis, multiple scoliosis |
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Doctor Kill, giving the rap dosage |
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Postage stamped, signed, sealed, delivered |
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Distributed through the hood, muthafucka, what's good? |
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Exciting, unorthodox, biting, ought to stop fighting |
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Fuck it, now I'm forced to box |
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You got 22 tattoos, you 2Pac a tad too much, |
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Touch like 2Pac, dude, that sucks |
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Smack saliva, out the side of ya face, I ain't trying to be rude |
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But dude, you food, so I gotta make grace, choir -- |
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(Jesus Price has all the time) |
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Yeah, all praises due to the rhyme, ya'll niggas is foul |
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Fuck it, Sean'll shoot two from the line |
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Two for the nine, I leave lead in ya jaw |
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Yo Rock these niggas ain't ready for war, let 'em know |
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[Rock] |
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I told 'em, these niggas ain't ready for retardation |
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In it's realest form in rap, this street car racing |
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Rebellious, rederic, heat start blazing |
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After that, I seen Caucasians, in the streets all taping shit up |
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They could be trying to piece ya'll faces back together |
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You keep on playing, you hit |
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[Sean Price] |
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Yeah, The Loudmouf Choir, luger lifting your name |
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The word-a-matician, magician, David Blaine on your chain |
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[Chorus 2x: Loudmouf Choir] |
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Oops upside your head, we smack you oops upside your head |
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You wearing suits and a tie when your dead |
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And eating soup with the noodles and eggs |
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[Rock] |
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Ok, new word, respecanize my gangstafication and g-dentials |
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You scared to fire, banging your face through ya Jeep window |
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Get ya window shot up, in a residential area |
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And left, fuck a ocean and sea, meant you |
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This time it's the principality, punk |
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You a point to prove, put the pistol back, you'se a punk |
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Push your shit all the way off, or producer para-loser |
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Yeah, pussy, that's you, chump |
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All that yackety yackety, your teeth, where the animals be |
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You get your ass beat, baddily, gradilly, P, Alkatraz |
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And the Beast Master, take a stab at me |
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The O'Connor red dots on ya face like bad acne |
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Nappy piece to be praying for yall niggas |
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While I'm getting my vulture on, preying on ya'll bitches, choir |
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(Ruck, Rock, Ruck N Roll,???????????) |
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Yeah that's how I got my Bronx bitch, she breakdance and bomb trains |
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The fifty pop blocker, while giving me bomb brains |
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?????????, and she go all way |
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She gone, go where I say, she know where ya'll stay, suckas |
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[Sean Price] |
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Yeah, ya'll niggas 'ready to die', blast the sket |
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And then you realize, ain't no fucking 'life after death' |
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Smash your chest with a fucking medicine ball |
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You think you nice, but I'm better than ya'll |
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Listen, Tommy Tee on the beat, Loudmouf is the Choir |
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Heltah Skeltah on they job, and you fuckas is fired |
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[Rock] |
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The fire supplier, forget your squad |
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Nigga, I'm dope like the tits on Oz, get your nod off |
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[Chorus 2x: Loudmouf Choir] |
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Oops upside your head, we smack you oops upside your head |
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You wearing suits and a tie when your dead |
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And eating soup with the noodles and eggs |
