Microphone checker, swinging sword lecture closing down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warming pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome biting in the selling crossbones protecting what am writing don't clash with the Titan who blast with a licence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the cracking got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfing the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closing in got us busting off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone.
[Verse Two: Redman]
I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo and Ozone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sipping on a forty smoking on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth getting jumped La la la la, la la la la
yeah c'mon, Red and Meth getting jumped La la la la, la la la la