( CHORUS )
I got some k**ers on the payroll, and they know
When it's time to handle business, n***a, lay low
( Phats Bossi )
Money to double, still in the struggle, stuck to my hustle
We all fight back like maniacs with broke knuckles
It's mo' trouble cause now we seein you n***as
Paint a vivid-a** picture, Boss spittin the scriptures
n***a, I'm Bossi, Bosslin done turned to cash fiend
I straight pop codeine and drink gasoline
What what, I'm too sick for y'all
Tatted with dragons till I fall, givin dick to y'all
In this pitfall I'm on the grind for mine
My people choose a life of crime, pistol-pushin with nines
On the payroll, apply the pressure when we say so
My troops turn wacko, shoot through your backdo'
My life real, seen a man die slow
And I still can't sleep, sweatin bullets fo' sho'
So don't push me, Boss is one tough cookie
My team Regime, pumpin them shots out a hooptie
( Mad Max )
Who down to rock with the murder plot of a cop k**er
Drop n***as, spillin they brains, rollin with hot n***as
Rot with a club to your face for tryin to rock with us
Straight up, get razorblade-cut for f**in with us
Regime superiors, Max Ju spit rhymes, strip mine interior
Rippin your sh** imperial, k** n***as' material
My whole crew ain't fearin ya, Mad Max the High Priest
I got some real k**er muthaf**as behind me
And I be obviously on top of things
With the Regime I'm too clean, make it a murder scene
Glocks and murder beam, n***as ain't never heard of me
Burnin em to the third degree, leavin n***as in the infirmary
Wait for recoupin, still choosin your brain, stupid
The Dragon recruited real n***as for thug music
So peep game and next time you speak my name
Be prepared for incoming from the heat of the flame
Regime
( CHORUS )
( Tech N9ne )
Regime k**er number one, I'm back up in this b**h with Yukmeez
On the payroll so I spray those foes, make you get on your knees
For the pesos Tech N9na???? great holes with these
You stay yellin you'se a merely k**er for the cheese, n***a please
Awfully sick, he tryin to f**, so off with his dick
Can't floss and he blitzed, molotow in his lips
Tossin his dick in a box of chocolates and walk in his ship
Talk to his b**h and whisper (he loved you) softer to kiss
(He bows down) You get???? N9ne????
(We wild now) You wanna rewind mine, I'm prime time
Qwest Records tryin to hold a n***a back
So I???? Saafir and tellin me???? get his sh** back
Off with their heads, let them hang high
Caught in their beds, let it???? die
Tech Neen, I'm a fiend for strings by Mike Dean
For the green I damage spleens, then I scream "Regime!"
( Poppa LQ )
Let's take a out-of-town trip with a thousand crips
With a thousand A.K.'s and a thousand clips
No 50 Cent can come to Cali and rob nobody
Cause gees catch and send his a** back a cold body
Young guns'll lay ya down regardless who you are
sh**, we make a livin out of extortin you stars
Robbin you for your j**elry, snatchin you out your cars
Poverty's a plague, I rob before I beg
But you don't expect me to score, times are hard
You're broke but you're scared to steal and break a law
You need not worry 'bout me, I live it raw
A hustler with a cause, flippin paper, gotta ball
I had to crawl before I walked but now I'm standin tall on em
Lookin down on em, 'bout to drop my balls on em
It's time for platinum minin, military grindin
Right when these s**ers???? start declinin
( Governor Matic )
Yuk threw me on part 2
Regime Brick City n***as mobbin when we come through
n***a, the Governor got it sowed up, spots get blowed up
Funk Doc, Diesel Don, yo, them n***as even showed up
As I rolled up, the nine Glock get load up
For the hold-up, the new hundreds we fold up
Confiscate d**, n***as' mouths get taped up
Kids get draped up and b**h up-slapped the make up
Then I take up all clothes, j**els and paper
You got 'cash money', but you don't wanna run the safe, ha?
n***a, don't play dumb, I'm steady gettin money from those that hold up
Used to drink weed tea, now my sh** robust
Now hold up, car patrolled up
It was 12 Outsidaz in a two-door Toyota
We splatter brains over crack c**aine
In the court we still came to pay Judge Mills Lane
n***a, it's not a question
My uzi weighs a ton, 'll have you undressin
Like you was strippin down on Western
k**ers on the payroll, pockets stay swoll
Hearts stay cold, that's why we's on payroll
( CHORUS )
Regime Life, n***as
Thug rituals
Regime Life
Thug Lord
Regime Life, n***a
( Yukmouth )
Now where them toy soldiers at? There they go, right chea
Get them b**hes, k** them n***as, there they go, watch it
Where them toy soldiers at? There they go, right chea
Keep them b**hes, k** them n***as, there they go, watch it
Get that bitin-a** rapper, wanna-be actor
Fake non-playin Basketball n***a that got dropped from the Raptors
I spit in your face and slap ya, boy
With a .38 kidnap ya, boy
Ductape and wrap ya, boy
???? and flash ya, boy
Lascerate and trash ya, boy
Mash ya, boy, I hate Master P like Pastor Troy
Shame on that n***a for tryin to steal a name from a n***a
Ice Cream Man put flames to a n***a
I figured by now that n***a done been broke off some scrilla for stealin that sh**
But until then I'm k**in that b**h
All you got is Snoop Dogg and Mystikal in your click
And all them other muthaf**as are like Mystikal-in your click
You're still in this sh**, "f** Yuk, I ain't feelin his sh**'
But f** you too, you fell off and I'm still in this b**h
Willing to rip the f**in head off a villain that's sick
My raps burn like ghonorrhea, need penicillin to spit
The Thug Lord, Ayatollah, fire the flame
Rappers tired in the game, make em retire again
f** gold, f** platinum, n***a, I did that sh**
In '95 and '96, so what you did ain't sh**
n***as go triple platinum, n***a, do some amazin sh**
Some eyebrow-risin sh** and quit hatin, ya b**h
How the f** you a mack when you beat down hoes?
At videos give a bad-a** b**h a bloody nose
n***a, the studio in compton I put you on in '84
You was a crackhead in dirty-a** clothes with dopefiend flows
Broke muthaf**a out livin on skid row
n***a, you from L.A., you ain't even from the Big O
This year them b**h-a** n***as gon' get theirs
You swingin from my balls, why you down there smell my dick hairs
Ya b**h
And Dru Down, the real Mack of the Year, ya b**h-a** n***a
Longevity that, huh
b**h
( CHORUS )
Regime Life, n***a
Ya b**h!