[Flavor Flav]
I can't hear nuttin though
Alright, where you want me to start at?
Aiyyo you can k** the music then
Yo, check one two, check one two in the place to be
From the bottom to the T-O-P
That's right, Flavor Flav, Public Enemy
From Bronx to L.A., we don't fail
Kickin right here for 7th Veil
My man Kool Keith, H-Bomb, no jive
Yo, H-Bomb, hit 'em in the head son
[H-Bomb]
No blazes, tennis shoes and denim
Pimp I got the gators, leathers I k** 'em
Your bullsh** events, don't play right
No tribute awards for Mr. Barry White
It's Guantanamo Bay, industry's gay
Hard to get rich, I don't swing that way
That switch to funny make record in Kingston
Jesus is black, tell Mel Gibson
Who wears a skirt, Sting and Dave Navarro
My strap, my money, don't lend, don't borrow
The Sunset Strip is Gaza Strip
Your clothin line is sh**, H is f**in sick!
The rap game industry too quiet
Hehehehehe hah hah Atkins Diet
No backpackers pro-athlete actors
I rep for pimps, pushers, jackers
The P on the fitted I'm all for pimps
I throw ropes down for my n***as in the clink (yeahhhh boy!)
First and foremost, the industry don't want it
f** it, I take what I want and flaunt it
I'm not vexed, they spend for s**
Who's next after Michael, f** Funkmaster Flex
[Flavor Flav]
Yeahhhh boyee, kickin it for 7th Veil
That's right, H-Bomb (f** the industry, f** it)
Kool Keith (f** the industry n***a f** it)
Hit 'em G
[Kool Keith]
No game here, I sh** on you ill son
f** Hollywood's best guest list
Maximum dead-a** parties with flat-a** Paris Hilton
My sh** shine bright with Von Dutch wipe
Jockin my gators, b**hes with fake titties act like
They don't s** dick, can you see me under the standard light
f** the red carpet, I'm in here with standard hype
You just at the crib on Sycamore
Your blonde co*ker spaniel, my rings shine in your face
Youse a a**wipe, you basketball player nut and scrotum jocker
You the givin a** type, with the Minnesota Timberwolves
Garnett's clockin your a** pipe
Ugly monster-face b**h, you think you dressed tight
Evil ba*tard, you make your grandmother upset
Don't flush the toilet motherf**er, you tryin to start a fight
Release the sh** off my chest, get rid of the gripe
I sh** inside your grey and white Nikes
Exercise your fat stomachs, no hamburgers at Chevies
You ride them f**in bikes
Corny-a** 42 year old player's club b**h
The funky face motherf**in Wanda Sykes
That baldheaded motherf**er just put a weave in, on UPN
Whack-a** tattoos above your titties
Your hard faced b**h, you'll see me again
Like Faith Evans is the only one that sniffs
All you c**aine motherf**ers in the hills
Even Vivica Fox is a ugly b**h, chasin Curtis for his chips
Engineer, just put me in that mix