[Intro] [Mr. Porter talking]
Yeah. Turn them lights back down too. Uh, uh, uh. Shhh shhh shhhh shhhh shh.
[Chorus] [Mr. Porter] (Bishop Lamont)
Now who the f** is this n***a interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that n***a home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that n***a home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)
[Verse One] [Bishop Lamont]
I'm afraid of rappers on my wall, when I was growin' up
I'm grown now but most of y'all motherf**ers s**
It's Bishop b**hes, MC's get on your knees, give praise
Please, please the deity, the steez call it E.V.P.
Ghost In The Machine, he's who you will never see
Impossible to view the scraps to stack like that T.N.T.
I'm so Primo and I ain't go to D&D
Feelin' buck enough to lift up your S.U.V.
f** that club sh**
I'm on that thug sh**
Break b**hes, shake b**hes, f** love sh**
Finger f** 'em and
Donkey punch 'em
What's to explain, my brain got a malfunction
Way down down, past down syndrome
Schizophrenia, poppin' pistols, put ten in ya
Injure ya, dismember ya, chop your body up, get rid of ya
Milk carton b**h, who the f** gon' remember ya?
[Chorus] [Mr. Porter] (Bishop Lamont)
Now who the f** is this n***a interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that n***a home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that n***a home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)
[Verse One] [Bishop Lamont]
(f** that)
Give me blades, give me hand grenades
(f** that)
Give me two uzi's and a 12 gauge
(f** that)
Click click click clack, to push your cap
Tips flip you back, your sh** is flat then it's a rap
Your jaw crack, brain is mayonnaise
sh** dribbles, shrivel, flambe like plantains
The sh** I scribble belittle your hardest riddles
You f*ggots is all sk**s, cupcakes with soft middles
See I'm old school, you kids is all middle
Fiddle with a syllable criminal, rearrange your dental
I'll bust your sh**, your grill will look just like a piano
I bust that tongue twist sh** cause I miss Big Pun
I'll bust your motherf**in' a** n***a just for fun
Boom shocka lock here comes the +Chief Rock+
On your block, cop a squat, couple glocks and a couple shots
Split up couples when it pops
All you n***as better watch
All that tough sh** you talk, knowin' you'll run tell the cops
[Chorus] [Mr. Porter] (Bishop Lamont)
Now who the f** is this n***a interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that n***a home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that n***a home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)\
[Verse Three]
Name your favorite rapper
f** him homie!
If you ain't say me n***a, f** you, blow me
It's only evident, apparent, I'm here to inherit the throne
To rule alone above these fake characters
None can compare with this, ain't no competitors
The rhetoric's repetitive, make me sleepy like a sedative
Voltron, black line, n***a I'm the head of this
Stop tryin', stop lyin', beatin' me is a negative
I bench 450
Both eyes shifty
My ice pick ain't picky
It give your neck a hickey
Sewin' some sh** to sticky
That gun play is tricky
I keep that quicker picker upper a n***a, right here with me
Beowolf to Air Wolf, air strikes, stay off your roof
Hand to hand, break the sh** with my palms like I'm aloof
Don't act aloof, I'm couth to who's the truth inside the booth
Get at me ba*tards if you f*ggots need more proof
[Chorus] [Mr. Porter] (Bishop Lamont)
Now who the f** is this n***a interruptin' my zone?
Must be out his mind
Send that n***a home
'Bout to make this young boy hop off of that throne
(I don't miss when I shoot)
Send that n***a home
See I can see in your eyes you a punk and you don't wanna get down
(You don't want it, you don't really really want it)
You can look at me and tell I'm the type that'll lay you down
(He don't want it, he just frontin', he don't want it)