[Chorus]
A-P-A-C-H-E, GET YA WEIGHT UP!!
GET YA WEIGHT UP!!
[Apache]
To all you fictional fake f*gs, frauds and fronts
I'm here to get puffed and rip sh** and I'm all out of Philly blunts
Step up, step up - who's starvin for static?
That's like playin Russian Roulette with an automatic
Full grown, the last kid I did tried to hold his own
Rushed his crib, smacked his b**h, held him hostage in his own home
f**ed up, goodbye - somebody sing his a** a lullaby
Tried for juice, but got a noose for a necktie
Black man, black a** and black heart
Use force, cut up his corpse, dispose of his body parts
To me fun is pullin a gun in a fair fight
I'm the hype type, my mic is my peace pipe
My tomahawk talks, you sink like a battleship
f** a bow and arrow, pa** me the Tec and 2 clips
Gimme some comp to stomp, f** the glory
Come witness more smoke and more bodies than a crematory
You defeat me, beat me, on the contrary
I'll knock out your fronts and sell 'em to the tooth fairy
Ask the last kid who said I couldn't rock
I scalped his a**, and left his head in his mailbox
[Chorus] - 2X
[Apache]
I speak clear so you can hear, that's what I'm all about
So cut that n**idy n**idy naggedy bullsh** out
Monkey see, monkey do, time to face the facts
One or two, only a few get props for that
Give the next man a face or neck brace to start
Took his girl, took his manhood and took his heart
Give him time to rhyme, then dump him in a ditch
Takin gangsters and makin 'em my "Gangsta b**h"
Where's the conflict, trouble's comin and won't fail
You think your weight's up? Then step on a sk** scale
You're too thin to win before I begin to blast
Your dialogue s**s, your lyrics are light in the a**
Me and mines remain fine and in mint condition
They get rougher, yours suffer from malnutrition
Stop sleepin on the job slob, I advise
Dream about kickin my a**, wake up and apologize
I'm a contender, while you plot and plan
Got speed and a lead like the Gingerbread Man
Bring your best buck, watch 'em get stuck up
Look for safety, I'm rigged to blow the f** up
[Chorus] - 2X
[Apache]
f** it who's got dice; cee-lo I got the bankhead the bank's a bullet
Lose with the Tec to your teeth, hold the trigger then pull it
With the gift I come swift with a straight arch
Competition I leave 'em stiffer than spray starch
Got a high strung tongue, can you catch it or match it
Those who tried died by the hatchet
I play to win friend, your game I aim for the chin
Rap is a hobby, I kick ASS for a livin
So what you get radio play and your record sold
And you were told your sh** just might go gold
When I step up and strike, be prepared to duck
I'm one deep, I don't sleep and don't give a f**
I'm a hood from the hood, better yet instead
It might be safer for you if you covered your head
If you win then I'll begin to bruise ya
f** that, I'm goin out cause I'm a sore loser
When I roll up to stick-up I got'cha
Gimme mine, pay me or pay the doctor
Don't f** with a man 'til you're full grown
Cause I'd hate to dislocate your a** bone
[Chorus] - 2X