G-- guts to the rush -- mad
Like a pitbull ragin brothers be wagin (war)
-- s**ers try to come hardcore
When they tricks down with a -- b**h
It ain't nothin but a rough player sk** comin from my dome
Feel the pressure of the cyclone
Tracks that we lay breakin backs, leave you breathless
Funk Slave -- a d**h wish
And I aiin't too -- damn thang
Watch your back for the jack in --
So gain weight for the style I unleash, parner
Chezski, Rube, herm---, Baby Beesh, partner
-- fingers in the gat-- partner
Whole album, check out the sound, partner
So mister --
Potna Deuce in the house and it's time to --
Rube
n***a, cough it up, so we can chop it up and then we scoop it up and loop it up
And get the whole motherf**in crew to cut
And if they like it, cool, if not, later for 'em
Yeah, I said I played it for em, never said I made it for 'em
-- trick, and smell the Rossi
No respect for hoes or those who smoke Ghadaffi
Been upon the mic for quite a whole while now
Green-stem buds got no love for the brown, pal
I'm -- eight in my brainwaves
Run up in two tramps in the same day
You feel the pressure -- no jurisdiction
It's just another mouth -- to put they dicks in
-- snatch it, chop it with a hatchet
Let them motherf**ers kknow what's up, boy, that's it
--, never see me grinnin
Twomp sacks come way fat, so put your bid in
Chez:
Puff up, smoke, stop---whiff
Chezski, the --
Ba-ba-bang, hit hard
Bringin new styles so the punk s**ers fall short
Raised as a have-not poor, knew me
Never had sh** handed to me
The rough type --
-- so you don't get wet
Back-stabber trick -- I see it
Funk Slave soldier in the pain gettin heated
Comin straight sick
Wait, --
And down for the slug fest
--
Crooked -- aim, k** it
Pressure - strong - rough, feel it
Plus gast Rob G