[DJ Paul Talking] [Verse 1: DJ Paul] I come from a city where they love to hate, especially on that Triple Six They see we really got Bentley's and Benz's and they hate the sh** They try to come up over us, the radio even help em' at it But yall ain't got no flows, so hang it up you silly rabbits I'mma keep on hurting you boys, by making this motherf**in' world rock Side to f**in' silence b**h for years and man we still ain't stop Still ridin' clean, makin' cheese and carrying plastic Glocks And please don't try to test us cuz you know we'll let these b**hes pop On you hoes, you haters, you n***as really like us Cuz if you thank us, then you wouldn't try to sound so much like us I'm the K-I-N-G of that M-P-H-M-S(Memphis) H-C-P, to the E-N-D, others gone be less Come prepared, man I swear they wanna be down with my team Don't let the sh** talkin' on them CD's fool you That ain't what they really mean The truth can hurt so bad so look in they faces when you play us And watch how they look, and watch they jaw drop to the pavement n***a [Hook: DJ Paul] Why yall Test My Gangsta These b**hes Test My Gangsta (Repeat 8x) Cuz it's on now n***a yeah it's on now (Repeat 4x) [Verse 2: Lord Infamous] n***a don't you know that Lord can make your life a living hell And I mean that literally, the place where demon spirits dwell Empty all the buck-shot shells, make your f**ing body smell I can f** you up somewhere, to where you were they cannot tell f** me with me, you f**ing with the best n***a so all you f**ing with the wrong one I will hit you with the milli-milli gun, got a millimeter gun Blow out ya lungs Like them old I-Tal-Ians, Mafia, devil son When you see me coming, better run for f**ing cover bum (BLITE!) AK, SK, .44, Tre-8 This body kinda heavy, D.O.A., air away b**h you better take notes, 'fo you end up cut-throat And ya on the ground bro', with your f**in' shirt soaked Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo, blow a n***a out his clothes Come out the trench-coat with a Sawed-Off, and lay me down a ho So if you think ScareCrow ain't a gangsta come and test the waters You will be de-slaughtered, the dearly departed [Hook] [Verse 3: Crunchy Black] Why you n***as wanna test my gangsta? Don't make a n***a run up and shank ya Or put some cement in yo sh** and sank ya Or make you shoot yourself and then I'm thankin' ya Throw tile over round your throat and drag ya cuz Get nothing from me, but gangsta love No testin' me my n***a, have you laying in blood Or dig you a grave, cut ya b**h a** up [Verse 4: Juicy-J] ({Yeah Ho!} repeated threw the verse) You n***as be trying to test, I ain't no slouch I squeeze my f**in' fist, my nig', I break the law I call out a hit my nig', I make the fall The handle with the bloody trig', is all they saw 'Fo yo ugly face was down, on the ground A barrel pointed at your frown, with hollow rounds I bet ya wanna run and sh**, it's too late now You shouldn't have been runnin' ya lip, to make me clown b**h! [Hook]