Directed by Annakin Slayd & Jean Michel Simard Edited by Annakin Slayd & Jean Michel Simard Produced by Ingrid Bauer & Andrew Farrar Special Thanks to Adrenaline Tattoo in Montreal, QC
Written by A.Farrar, F. Scruggs, K. Jones Produced by Mitch Album & Annakin Slayd Guitars by Franko Beaulieu
LYRICS
We throwin' 'em up like hardcore Bup bup bup bup bup! Like we back in '94 Bup, bup, bup bup bup! It's Judgement Night, these are Rap's last days Bup, bup, bup bup bup! Anni Slayd! Onyx! Bringin' back the Madface!
Fedro Starr Breakin' (expletive) for slot times This for you cowards that drop dimes I'm posted on the block like stop signs How could you stop crime? when Onyx in this (expletive) and we pop nines Boy got hot lines like phone numbers for runaways Beef like Faye you get Dunaway When I see my B, only time I put (expletive) away Play (expletive) for fun, at least one a day Shots in your Teflon, bullet proof vest on I feel seventeen again like Zac Efron 100 Mad click like Cope you get stepped on Battle me your new website or be deaf calm I hold your kids for ransom. Throw up your Hand This is the thug anthem This is the thug anthem This is the thug anthem Throw up your hand, this the thug anthem
We throwing 'em up like hardcore Bup bup bup bup bup! Like we back in '94 Bup, bup, bup bup bup! It's Judgement Night, these are Rap's last days Bup, bup, bup bup bup! Anni Slayd! Onyx! Bringin' back the Madface! We throwing 'em up like hardcore Bup bup bup bup bup! Like we back in '94 Bup, bup, bup bup bup! It's Judgement Night, these are Rap's last days Bup, bup, bup bup bup! Anni Slayd! Onyx! Bringin' back the Madface!
Annakin Slayd What's the matter with my brain, it's insane Starr, Stick and Slayd, going back to golden days When the class bell sounds, time to bring hell around, Bustin' Bald heads way before Britney had her melt down Hoodies and black bomb jacks, White Sox caps The smarter you talked back, the harder the smack Drop "Slam", the jam turns to an all out brawl So I toss my best friend through a gyp rock wall When Hip Hop falls, you'll find me lying in a hearse Screaming I'm not watered down so I'm dying of thirst Belly flop off a roof before I stop hawking truth I'd rather Sticky blow my (expletive) head off in this booth I blast truth, through wack dudes and dance crews These hack youths, jack thirty years of classic rap tunes 100 Mad true and I ain't got no gat, dude But Dro said he'd get me a (expletive) if he had to
We throwing 'em up like hardcore Bup bup bup bup bup! Like we back in '94 Bup, bup, bup bup bup! It's Judgement Night, these are Rap's last days Bup, bup, bup bup bup! Anni Slayd! Onyx! Bringin' back the Madface! We throwing 'em up like hardcore Bup bup bup bup bup! Like we back in '94 Bup, bup, bup bup bup! It's Judgement Night, these are Rap's last days Bup, bup, bup bup bup! Anni Slayd! Onyx! Bringin' back the Madface!
Sticky Fingaz In the back streets, we stash heat in the back seat of the black jeep Splash beef, half sleep, high off (expletive) since last week Word Comanche, that chick is transported out of state on they ass cheek I'm nasty. Got enough heart to blast me? React rashly while police harrass A trash heap is where they find your head if you crab me Three shots from the navvy? You defy the law of gravity My strategy? Front on Stick and get hit automatically Agony! Agony! Hate my Moms for having me I know a lotta (expletive) wann