* credited to Luke, as it appeared on his album of the aforementioned title
Intro: Luke
Yo, it's a f**ed-up thing! I gotta bring Kid N' Play on this motherf**in'
Album here, two p**y punk-a** n***as - yo, check this out, what I'mma do
Is I'mma go get last year's rookie of the year, JT Money of Poison Clan
This year's rookie of the year, Bustdown - yo, Bustdown, kick some of
That West Bank sh** on these f** n***as!!
Verse 1: Bustdown
Well, I'm first up as a rhyme conveyor
Luke Records in the house for the payback, player
Kid N' Play can s** a dick
Get me a mic and a 40 and let a real n***a wreck sh**
To me you're walking on a tightrope
Instead of tryin' to be real, you're steady sweatin' them white folks
Keep runnin' your big mouth
But if you come to my hood, you'll get your a**hole ripped out
Then I'mma play you to the back seat
Cause I'm runnin' more game than a track meet athlete
As if you didn't know, huh
You're dealing with a West Bank dicksman, ho
But anyway, I got a rhyme to deliver
Get your draws out your a**, quit frontin', my n***a
Cause if you don't, well you'll keep gettin dissed on
And if I see you at a show and you're slippin', you're gettin' pissed on
Chorus (4x):
[What about Kid N' Play?]
[Wick-wick-wack!]
Verse 2: JT Money
Now for starters, with kids I don't play
Cause y'all some f**-a**, punk-a**, coochie n***as anyway
JT I the house, n***as, check it
Tryin' to diss my n***a Luke to sell your wack record
Let me talk about the Kid
I remember some ol' coochie-n***a sh** you did
When we was up in New York
You was followin' Luke, talkin' 'bout "We gotta talk"
On that man's dick
Got your a** wide open and you're talkin' that bullsh**
Both movies, I boo 'em
Cause you had hoes but you wasn't stickin' pipe to 'em
Thought they was fantastic
But through the whole f**in' movie, Kid was gettin' his a** kicked
And 'bout that other n***a Play
He needs to get dissed cause he's a punk n***a anyway
Be 'round here kissin' hoes, while I'm dissin' hoes
And stabbin 'em with fishin' poles
You need to try to lay pipe in 'em
Oh, I forgot - punks don't like women
Got the nerve to try and diss somebody
At Jack the Rapper, you was hangin' 'round Luke's party
Now you're outta gas
With two motherf**in' punk-haters on yo' a**
JT and Bustdown
Now let's see you ho n***as get tough now
Get the rubbers out your a**, dick-s**ers
...and f** them p**y motherf**ers
Chorus
Verse 3: Bustdown
Now let me put my boy Kid in his place
With them wick-wack rhymes soundin' like Rob Base
Cause if I have to come tag that a**
I'mma max, wax, tax and drag that a**
I get sharp like a ice pick
I'm on a hype tip, hold the mic tight as a vice grip
You couldn't deal with the concept
I'm collected and calm, but on the mike I'm a bomb threat
So motherf**ers get real
I got a heart like gold and a dick like steel
You wanna diss, punk? Please
You got a flat top thicker than commodity cheese
Luke left it up to me and JT
To take it from the bottom to the T-O-P
I saw your second "House Party," it figures:
Two house parties for two house-a** n***as
Outro: Luke
Two house motherf**in' n***as - do y'all n***as know what a house n***a is?
A house n***a is a n***a who works in the house
Who cleans the master's a**, who cleans behind the master, who wash the master's a**
Y'all house n***as. I'mma field n***as, we field n***as here in Miami
That's why y'all n***as can't understand us, y'all f**-n***as talkin' too much sh**
Y'all n***as better watch what you sayin' cause y'all f** n***as, y'all don't know
Y'all get f**ed up here. Yo, check this out
Miami is closed to y'all n***as. Y'all barred. Y'all can't come here no more, f**-n***as
Y'all can't sell no more records here
And if all real n***as in the world is real like us, y'all don't buy them f**-n***as' sh** no more
Cause they ain't sh**, p**y punk, f** n***as