[Intro - Killa BH - Uh oh! It's that again It's been too It's reunion We got to school y'all to the game (IS THIS YOU WANT?) You know what let's to 'em (HUH?) Let's go (IS THIS YOU WANT?)
[Joe Budden - talking Killa BH] Uh Mic check, mic Check, one two, one two
[DJ On Point - Y'all already what time it is (y'all already know what time it is) Family (family reunion) Ransom (Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), go
[Joe - talking behind DJ On Point] The is out niggaz, uh Get 'em boy
1 - Ransom] Ain't tryin to rap or play me I'll be at they crib with a couple and a black old AV Black gonna pay me, get the smack off Baisley Cause I'm touchin more diesel than old lady Boy, you did it, I it, I get it, I punish The shit that I come with'll separate a rib from a I'm the boss, when I spit it, you it fact, I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to plumage Yeah, the nigga is here, the is scared You got the throne? Then I I need to sit in your chair We really get physical here And the sky's the nigga, I put your whole clique in the air Baby, so quit playin, the clips spray 'em And have his MIA like Saban His whole shit caved in, my whole clique Hard bodied nigga, my whole shit You can't if you dead in the ground In the woods, where your be found And it's good that you gettin it now, in the precinct it now I can't fuck with the of you clowns, faggot
2 - Hitchcock] High in the before the storm Lincoln Park, the Slang rock on the block that the water on I be more than gone, run and get your form time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on Cause she realer most niggaz I tote triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold diggers no figures That why I the heater, for all you non-believers I'm on ass like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza con the preacher, you tryin to get on a feature Better get your bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya We ain't in the same weight Your fake ass, couldn't stop a nigga with brake I'm way past, anything that you did I'm kid and we never sweat a bid It's to get a cig In the bing, I'm Ving Rhames, I bring pain I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm James Y'all doubtin I spit the whole lead, they be callin Code Red, like Mountain Dew 'Fore I count to two, you could get back blown (OH!) Cause your chemic's out of like a TracFone (NIGGA!) Get homes, I'm back on my shit I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles, my chips my fifth, you the 'test me type' Comin out a "Blade" to get Wesley sniped So the cops arrest me, right? It's not happenin You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop (H20) comin this summer, so stop All heat Wall Street, your stock crashin Now the Feds want to read his Lord have mercy, Christ, I got passion I'm black and all my niggaz gettin this We in the Chevy and ready to pop and (what? OH!)
[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs] So whatever you to do little niggaz (niggaz), I already done (done) And since you to live by it little nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun) See whatever you tryin to do little nigga, I've already (done) So how the fuck you gon' win nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)
[Verse 3 - Like we always do it, Yes (yes), go (yes), uh huh Aiyyo, money is the root of all I thought But I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts That's when the arms come out, like sleeves it's short With more bullets your favorite wide receiver has caught And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & ya Your pop up like Instant Messenger You've got mail, naw you got shells And my Mac, you can't use for I've got that, that will lie flat And my gat is on leg thigh tat I nigga, who you dudes Some broke niggaz who tryin to get youtube views So 'less you want a blank, boy you're too close Bail's in pocket, is Lawyer Lou Los I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in four door ridey Double pipes a sawed off shotty, nigga
(IS WHAT YOU WANT?)
[Verse 4 - Joe Look, I flow sickly, ridin, old Biggie with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie Fuck plat, if I reach diamond fame I treat a nigga's like the old Simon game out why men try us Cause we OD on rims and tires, for that we Len Bias All it is a punch He ain't brave, he a I'll put his in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch How y'all yourselves? Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't need you, you Parcells And you ain't got to empty your when the K's out Whatever you is mine, you my PayPal See I don't get how guy is a threat I make his inept for a pie to the neck Ride or die, if you both nigga, ride to the I the whole left side of his chest Not retirin, still got pension pendin Tryin to pop the hood and see the missin Double barrelled shotgun, have men get missin She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint Oh the cig in the car, you en moi Take the ratchet go and just Chris Benoit I tell a bird like it is, you promise the I one line her (you), you Thomas the broad I send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target And catch a ROR on Jena 6 charges (naw) Naw, I'll put this away I don't even need a whole hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one wave Been in the bing for days, you how I'm real Come home to the truck with the Optimus grill Handed out crack, got the poppin off They not on 'em, the fiends is noddin off For real, me how you a thug and you Superman (nigga) I just seen you in the doin the Superman (nigga) A bunch of clowns All I in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone paper (I mean), cake by the layers If dudes is live, I'm the Creative Player They callin 'em 'Kings' when so so hot Something's wrong with that picture, be Photoshop I promote violence, but when sparkin the flame - BLAM start wavin like the Carlton Banks dance When tools go pop, it move whole blocks Come around your dog and get Cujo shot MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with brains These niggaz is MC nice, rappers is far from bein nice I'm on the rooftop recordin, and niggaz is bein like
[Chorus - w/ ad
[Outro - DJ On Point - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in Shout to the BSC (whole BSC) Shout to my Dru Cartier SlimeBugz, DJ The Don (The Don), Dre (Dre Bless) DJ Baby Dru (DJ Dru) My Freeze