I'm a professional
I'm a professional
I'm a professional...
[top dog]
You must be blind and deaf
To think that you can test
Originoo gunn clappz 2 to yo chest
(pumm! pumm!)
May the buddha bless you where they rest you
Underground, where you hear the sound
Bucktown!
Home where we roam
Pack mad chrome
So n***as watch your dome-piece
Or you just might just catch 2 shots to your motherf**in head
Batty bwoy gwan dead
[ruck]
Time for some action
Dick in yo mouth satisfaction
I pull it out you breathe again like toni braxton
I'm askin n***as, but i'm blastin n***as
Yo we pa** dem n***as, so the ruck just laugh at n***as
My mind ills off rhyme sk**s and nine mills
So i'll drill styles that keep the mine filled
Blunts get smoked and chumps get choked
When they try to quote the notes that b-i-g ruck wrote
So ah make way for the master blaster
Who blast past ba*tards, cuz my sh**'s mastered,uh
Chorus:
Blah! like this
Blah! like that
The heltah, the skeltah, the gunn, the clappaz
Blah! like this
Blah! like that
The heltah, the skeltah, the gunn, the clappaz
Blah! like this
Blah! like that
The heltah, the skeltah, the gunn, the clappaz
[louieville sluggah]
Well it's the louieville sluggah motherf**a
Straight outta bucktown!
Word to mother, sh** is real f**in' with this crowd
Times is hard, n***as do need a bodyguard
To block the body scars, bootcamp always stand in charge
I brings the beef to the biggest of them bigger n***as
All them bigger n***as scared to d**h of all us little n***as
And smif(smif) to the wessun(wessun) got our backs
So n***a grab ya gat, cuz you could catch a head clap
Slap the n***a face up and down, take the smile off ya face
Or catch 2 strays straight to ya face
You punk p**y, you's a rookie
I'ma play your a** like a hot day of hookie, so push me
I'll stomp ya face, put a boot in the place of ya front tooth
The truth you shoulda let loose
(chorus)
[rock]
Ayo, go get your boys
Tell 'em bring the noise if ya want want it
(f** dem n***as!)
Try and run up on this n***a that stay blunted
That n***a rock still livin' ill
I will k** at will
And fill you up from yo gut to yo grill
(tell em sam, tell em sam)
Nah, man that be my grandpops
I slam cops for glocks
And buck shots all over your block
I can't believe there really be non-believers
Who wanna see the rock give 'em growing pains like mike seaver
(nah mean)
Mr. inflicksta will jack ya, rollin with the originoo gunn clappaz
So act up, we strapped
(what!)
Boot camp's thick in this b**h
Guard ya melon or catch a swellin from some old stiff sh**
[starang]
n***as get crushed into dust, they can feel the wrath plus
f** around and get that a** bust
Standin in the back ya wondered and ya frightened
f**in with the starang ya face the thunder and the lightnin
Awesome, tossin' n***as like steve austin
n***as get baked like beans that's straight from boston
And my glocks make sh** hot, cops get
More nervous than thursdays on the box
And every now and then a s**a trys to attack
Heltah skeltah plays the front, gunn clappaz in the back
So act, like you want the mac to ya grill
Embrace my face it's k** or be k**ed
(chorus)
Like this like this like this like this like this like that
It's the heltah skeltah gunn clappaz
Blah this, blah that, like this like that...