[Stumik:] I dump at your grill again, they said I'm wilding Plus I'm from the Island, something like Gilligan Get slugs from the pump, just from grilling men And spun like a ceiling fan, and slumped in the trunk, cause we militant Niggas better duck, when we killing shit Cause Stumik get crunk, and I don't give a fuck, if you feeling it Ain't trying to be caught in the mix, my watch looking like Niggas hit me with a snowball on my wrist I'm getting neck with the lights on, Hulk Hogan shit I'm sitting on twenty-two inch pythons And I keep something new in that right palm So what I got to prove, it ain't shit you could do when your life's gone
[Chorus: Polite] Aiyo, if you ain't from round here, don't come around here I don't know what you heard, they carry guns round here I know you heard they kill them boys round here Listen (Watch what you say, it's on around here) Yo, really though, it's all good, grew up around here I watch fiends get high, and throw up round here So be careful, when you roam round here When you leave home, make sure you keep the chrome round there
[D.C.:] You don't wanna clash with Cash, and end up With your body bent up, in that plastic bag I leave you bloody as a maxipad, you know me D.C., I'm in the streets like a taxi cab You niggas sweeter than a Laffy Taf, and as far as that lead I let it spread like a nasty rash They only thing you ever clapped was glass, on the ballcourt I bet that sawed-off'll turn that ass to grass You all talk, you won't actually last You probably think it's game, until them thang-thangs actually blast Yo, when it blows, you can catch these drafts, the cold chills From cold steel, it's I'll, like a nasty gash
[Chorus]
[P.C.:] Paulie, I'm an "Animal", trying to find something to eat You don't want it with me, I be hunting for beef It'll be another dead body under a sheet For trying to fuck with my bread, I stomp 'em under the street Niggas think they hear thunder when I'm thumping the heat I make it rain like Lil' Wayne, you can't fuck with the beast I punch niggas in they face, bear knuckle the cheek A whole mouth full of fists, you lose a couple of teeth Sorry I don't spit commercial rap, Paulie murk the track And it can get a lot of worse than that If I showed you how I work the mack, I leave a couple doves And hearses at the church, lineback the pack