take a minute

it's on now, look at what we have here, you understand what we goin through today?, you understand who you fuckin with?, oh what you thought we wasn't comin back? the last time we rapped, a lot of niggaz that yapped, hit put in they place, for fragile-ly flossing, makin me wanna stick, this llama and this lauson, up in they face, you ain't gotta tell 'em, we still at it, we still batted, they still doubt it, we do it like we do it with nothing to hide, hollerin brownsville, from a world down inside killers and vandals, train in rugged terrain to maintain handles, nobody touchin him still double clutchin 'em, please believe i'm out of your league, extrordinary rap kid, don't get yo' young ass, bumped off and dumped off the brooklyn bridge, i got a chip on my shoulder and an extra clip, to fit the heavy shit on my hip and my holster, it's for the listeners - for those that have an ear for this, straight from jamar-rrrrrrrrocko in the mix, keep the mic crystal clear when he spit, he do it for thugs huggin the block and he's straight from the bricks, go get your mac homes, it's fizzy womack homes, he back homes, he crack bones and crack domes you get your back blown, we don't write battle raps for yo' ass; we catch him in the streets, put golf clubs and bats to yo' ass, now salute to those that held it down for years, keepin our shit on blast. they wonder why they don't get enough m.o.p. simple and plain we don't kiss ass, fuck it! let it bang, we still do our thang, ten years in the game and ain't shit changed, fuck the whole rap game! bill and fame still killin the beats, still bangin and we still in the streets, mother-fucker!,