Hitchcock - Family Reunion lyrics

[Verse 1: Ransom] Ain't nobody trying to rap or play me I'll be at they crib with a couple hammers and a black old AV Black gonna pay me, still get the smack off Baisley Cause I'm touching more diesel than Shaq old lady Boy you did it, I done it, I get it, I punish The sh** that I come with'll will seperate a rib from your stomach I'm the boss, when I spit it, you love it Matter fact, I'm a Viking I need a whole village to plumage Yeah the n***a is here, the city is scared You got the throne Then I think I need to sit in your chair We could really get physical here And the sky's the limit n***a, I put your whole clique in the air Baby, so quit playing, fore the clips spray em And have his a** MIA like Nick Saban His whole sh** caved in, my whole clique cavemen Hard bodied n***a, my whole sh** pavement You can't spit if you dead in the ground In the woods, where your head'll be found And it's good that you getting it now, in the precinct confessing it now I can't f** with the rest of you clowns, f*ggot [Verse 2: Hitchco*k] High in the silence before the storm Lincoln Park, the Audubon Slang rock on the same block that the water on I be more than gone, run and get your order form Next time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on Cause she realer than most n***as I tote triggers for you broke n***as and gold diggers with no figgas That why I palm the heater, for all you non-believers I'm on your a** like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza Better con the preacher, you trying to get on a feature Better get your casket ba*tard, I'm gon' eat ya We ain't in the same weight cla** Your fake-a**, couldn't stop a n***a with brake pads I'm way past anything that you ever did I'm better kid and we never sweat a bid It's easy to get a cig In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames I bring pain I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm King James Y'all doubting who When I spit the whole lead, they be calling Code Red like Mountain Dew 'Fore I count to two, you could get your back blown Cause your gimmicks out of minutes like a TracFone Get back homes, I'm back on my sh** I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles stacking my chips Clapping my fifth, you the test me type Coming out with a Blade to get Wesley Sniped So the cops could arrest me, right It's not happening You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop rapping H20 coming this summer, so stop asking All heat like Wall Street, ya stock crashing Now the Feds want to read his rights Lord have mercy, Jesus Christ I got pa**ion I'm Black and all my n***as getting this 'feti We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags [Hook: Joe Budden] So whatever you trying to do little n***as, I already done And since you want to live by it little n***a, then die by the gun See whatever you trying to do little n***a, I've already done So how the f** you gon' win little n***a, I've already won [Verse 3: Fabolous] Like we always do it, d-d-damn Yes, let's go, uh huh Aiyyo, money is the root of all evil I thought But when I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts That's when the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short With more bullets than your favorite wide receiver has caught And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & Wesson ya The shoes pop up like Instant Messenger You've got mail, naw n***a you got shells And my Mac, you can't use for iChat I've got that, confused that with live flat And my gat is on leg like thigh tat I that n***a, who you dudes Some broke n***as who tryin to get some youtube views So 'less you want a point blank, boy you're too close Bail's in pocket, this is Lawyer Lou Los I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that four door ridey Double pipes like a sawed off shotty, n***a [Verse 4: Joe Budden] I flow sickly, riding, bumping old Biggie Roll with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie f** plat, if I don't reach diamond fame I treat a n***a's face like the old Simon game Figured out why men try us Cause we OD on rims and thin tires, for that we Len Bias All it takes is a punch He ain't brave, he a punk I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch How y'all feel yourselves Should k** yourselves, us Cowboys don't need you, you Bill Parcells And you ain't got to empty your pockets when the K's out Whatever you holding is mine, we my PayPal See I don't get how this guy is a threat I make his life inept for a pie to the neck Ride or die, I do both n***a, ride to the d**h I a cappella the whole left side of his chest Not retiring, still got that pension pending Trying to pop the hood and see the engine missing Double barreled shotgun, have your men get missing She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint condition Oh the cig in the car, you diss en moi Take the ratchet go home and just Chris Benoit Tell a bird like it is, you promise the broad I one line her, you Isiah Thomas the broad I could send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target And catch a ROR on some Jena 6 charges Naw, I'll put this thing away I don't even need a whole hairdo to clip em, all it take is one finger wave Been in the bing for days, show you how I'm real Come home to the truck with the Optimus Prime grill Handed out crack, got the scene poppin off They not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is nodding off All real, tell me how you a thug and you Superman I just seen you in the club doing the Superman A bunch of clowns homes All I need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone Major paper, cake by the layers If these dudes is live, I'm the Create-A-Player They callin 'em Kings when they so so hot Something's wrong with that picture, must be Photoshop I don't promote violence, but when sparkin the flame, blame Arms start waving like the Carlton Banks dance When them tools go pop, it move whole blocks Come around with your dog and get Kujo shot These MC's is lame, I try to be a MC with brains These n***as is MC Brains Being nice, rappers is far from being nice I'm on the rooftop recording, n***as is being sniped It's like [Hook]