f/ Lil Dap, Miz Marvel
Intro: Jeru The Damaja
Yes yes
Check it out right here now, knowhatimean?
Henryville, the muthaf**kin b**hez wit dikz
That's in the midst,
of the real brothers whose the true wonders
Knowhatimsayin? Talkin all that sh** about this and this and that
But fakin sh**, I'mma drop it like this
{Jeru The Damaja
Bad b**hes and techs, and sound affects
Talk but skate like Tara Lipinski, when sh** get hec-tic
Out in Brooklyn, too late you's a vick
And if spend major dough on a hoe, you a b**h a** trick
Pimps and players, no I'm not a hater
'cause I smashed it off, she bust me down I ain't pay her
Shoutin youse a regulator,
soft like C3PO, but pop sh** like Darth Vader
For Princess Leia, with flesh hard like Shaggy
Your booty, when sh** get raw you Doo like Scooby
I'm snatching chains, mics and those platinum groupies
Dutches, chins, and hips get twist
And let it be known, I eat ya'll pussies like a p**no movie
Drop that b**h with a dick, and get a n***a like this
Chorus: Jeru The Damaja (Miz Marvel)
You never see him the in the ghetto (b**hez Wit Dikz)
Think they pimps, but they tricks (b**hez Wit Dikz)
Turn to states evidence (b**hez Wit Dikz)
When beef come they skip (b**hez Wit Dikz)
*b**h!*
You never see him the in the ghetto (b**hez Wit Dikz)
Think they pimps, but they tricks (b**hez Wit Dikz)
When beef come they skip (b**hez Wit Dikz)
Turn to states evidence (b**hez Wit Dikz)
*b**h!*
{Lil Dap
You n***as are like East New York waste, spit in your face
Open your mouth, swallow the taste, listen to the pace
It's like showin the love, the same thing as pullin the club
Spit it out, ya hoes know what this sh** is about
b**hez wit dicks, and make a n***a mad as sh**
Cough the cough, when singing thru the streets of New York
Holdin it down, but wavin my banner all around
'cause these whole motherf**kers, wanna round are town
Thinkin they down, but dont know BK grounds
*b**h!*
Chorus
{Miz Marvel
The next contestant left to be a secret lethal weapon
Against half steppin, n***as is fake,
I scope them first impression
Take the mics possession, with the greatest discretion
And quick wit, fully equipped, mental lie detection
Ya eyes cross like an intersection
You forget to count your blessings, all in the mix
Sold your soul for it's weight in gold bricks
b**hez wit dikz, with chips like chicks
Only talk with snares and tits
In the time of revolution, be the first to submit
Try to be God, but there mental seem unfit
Speakin mathematics, but quick to kiss a crucifix
Won't admit that their style is rip and counterfeited
Contradict, sell their men to bang their fit, a moving target
Thrown into the bottomless pit, b**hez wit dikz
Chorus
(b**h! scratched over and over)