Craig G - Going for the Throat lyrics

Hey yo Craig (What up, man?) Yo, this s**er tried to dis you in a magazine (It's like that, word?) Yo, I think you should get him (I take care of it) [ VERSE 1 ] Yo, I got beef, and this beef is on my mind Since it's on my mind, let me put it in a rhyme It seems a brother that I went way back with Is coming out the woodwork talking sh** At first it didn't mean all that Cause he was washed up and strung out on crack Freebase, his life was a waste to the rap world Nobody cared about him or his wack girl So yo, I took it in stride And continued with the rest of my life Until recently he showed some form of indecency When in a magazine he tried to release on me But now it's the last straw I'm gonna wreck him, and anything he stands for Point blank - Shan, you s** And I'm about to nail your coffin shut Juice Crew Law? That sh** is out the window Just like the basepipe, where all of your ends go Yeah, excactly what I thought Just like Magic when he was a little short To buy crack from my man on the block Eyes wide open, and your mouth just dropped Ah-ah - don't say a word Just a lot of glance superb MC Craig G to kick all the facts About why your records are wack BDP wrecked you quite a long time ago But allow me to deliver the final blow Dis me and get away easy? Yo, I'm gonna hand you squeegee Go wash windows, that should be your career I could give a f** about what you 'pioneered' Straight up, that don't mean sh** So won't you take your vine and swing the f** off a cliff Yeah, I mean business Don't ever in your life try to dis this Cause punk, I'll rip you to streads And mail your record company your head I know it sounds a little graphic I heard your album's double plastic And your single went copper Congratulations, but I think you need a doctor Cause after you take this whippin There's no tellin what the f** you be shippin And now that you've been smoked Relax, punk, before I go for your throat Yo, that was kinda funky (Word?) Don't you have a second verse? (Yeah, I got a second Let me tell you how I get him on this one here) [ VERSE 2 ] Authentic - that's the way I present it Sometimes it's funky, and sometimes it's demented Rappers runnin up to me, handin me feedback Slow down, Shan, you just entered a speed track With your neck snapped, don't accept that So want you call me, give the devil his check back And take your soul, but your title - ??? And bring your wack-a** rhymes to the _Muppet Show_ See, I don't give a f** how much swing you got And how high your album climbs on the charts You're still a dead rapper from Christmas past So won't you pucker up and kiss this a** Cause I'm in here, even ??? I make up for the others with this fly-a** beat here And you - you'll make a drastic drop You couldn't stop me if you were a traffic cop Now this reminds me of my radio days When I'd take the mic and leave rappers amazed No matter how large, whether gold or platinum I take my microphone and point the sh** right at them And after I was finished, they'd say, "Craig G scored" And that's the way I usually would rock New York So yo punk, if you don't like those quotes Come on find me, and watch me go for your throat Yo man, you definitely got him on that, yo (He can't f** with this in a million years, uknowmsayin?) Yo, fake-a** Puma-wearin...dirty Puma suit...gutter-a**