| Verse One: Xzibit | |
| (See look look) | |
| I grab the mic and start breakin down niggas | |
| wit out no problem | |
| broadcastin live from the bottom/aint no mic checkin worse/ | |
| kick some rhymes if you got/but if it's wack | |
| I draw back the cap for the peelin | |
| should of stuck to rock dealin | |
| cuz it's the blood stealin/super vill.. | |
| chill..stayin high like the ceilin | |
| see there aint enough room for the both of us | |
| see it's a showdown/throw down | |
| your best style I'll bust | |
| (yo)I write rhymes that make niggas throw they sets up | |
| couldn't hold my style if you had a pair of handcuffs | |
| In all disrespect | |
| I'll snatch you by your neck | |
| and do a suplex and step | |
| so nigga you can check my credentials | |
| just hard rhymes and instrumentals | |
| Xzhibit smash you wit a dental | |
| and a loaded pistol | |
| no longer lookin in the window | |
| I'll bust a field wit indo | |
| killin quarts of beer | |
| Sadie's outta here... | |
| Verse Two: MC Breeze | |
| Like a fuze/start spreadin the news | |
| its 94 and Breeze is givin niggas the blues | |
| I paid my dues/and now it's time to go on to the next mode | |
| make room for the kaboom/cuz I'm about to explode | |
| and drop bombs like a B1/cops I seize none | |
| and niggas step up/I soak emcseason | |
| 3 seconds to detinate/you betta evacuate | |
| no time to hesitate/you fuckin featherweight | |
| I aint the type to pic up the mic | |
| and catch the stage fright | |
| I'll pull a gauge if I aint paid right | |
| to the promoters on tour | |
| short me a buck and a buckshot and the barrel is yours! | |
| I'm psycho pathic like Manson | |
| aint wit the dancin | |
| but still I get more Cheers than Ted Danson | |
| more dough than Marino or roles than Pacino | |
| you beatin me? that's only in your dreams ho | |
| I'm not sayin I'm unbeatable/I'm sayin I'm untouchable | |
| livin comfortable just like a Huxtable | |
| plus I'm rollin wit the cross roads | |
| movin fast foward/while you other suckas | |
| stuck in a pause mode | |
| I goes deep like a great white | |
| but I'm a stay black | |
| no matter how high the pay stacks | |
| or if my rep gets bigger | |
| you might get take this nigga out the ghetto | |
| but not the ghetto out this nigga..... | |
| Verse Three: J-Ro, Tash | |
| For the balls basketballs | |
| microphones gassin grass(hey) | |
| some of the few things J-Ro likes to pass | |
| 93 mandingo/94 I'm the pharoah | |
| cuz I'm b-bbad to the bone marrow | |
| I get wild | |
| wit more styles than the martial arts | |
| I need weed | |
| I roll more grass than golf carts | |
| April 92 you no the Ro was a looter | |
| now I'm writin raps on my lab-top computer | |
| J-Ro the tittie fiend/rap dean/wearin green | |
| been on the scene/since the age of 13 | |
| I learned I had to earn the mic | |
| now's my turn | |
| I got Furious Styles like Larry Fishburne... | |
| Wit da bitches tunin me in | |
| like it's the Young and the Restless | |
| next up to bust my shit | |
| from the L-I-K-S's | |
| yes it's the freshest | |
| wit lyrics rough around the edges | |
| I'll smoke you on the mic | |
| like a pack of Benson Hedges | |
| But..hold up wait | |
| I'll bust rhymes that'll circulate | |
| that'll wake yo punk ass up like MC Eiht | |
| cuz I be rockin rhymes | |
| since the roof was on fire | |
| so point me to the bitch who's the dopest butterflyer | |
| I'll make her break it down like she Patra when I catch ya | |
| Broadway is on the tables | |
| while I throw these lyrica atcha | |
| so....slow down before ya fuck wit my sound | |
| you betta do the hokey pokey | |
| and turn ya self around... |
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