| Extraordinary | |
| (new shit, made men) | |
| The undisputed made men | |
| [verse one] | |
| Ey yo | |
| Retreat your betallion quick, before your time run out | |
| (nigga) i see you sweatin', don't try a reachable gunout | |
| We take no prisoneers, never leavin' witnesses | |
| Deadly venoms, on contact, my team strikes first | |
| My squad'll attack u in threes, no need for darkman | |
| We last man standing, who dead man walkin' | |
| It's five fingers to death, when i clutch | |
| The microphone in my hand | |
| I know you niggas don't understand | |
| Play my position, hold it down just like de niro | |
| One of the coldest, mortal kombat, sub-zero | |
| I shot the shit outly, whippin the hantle clinch fisted | |
| Don't get it twisted, i'm livin and dyin by the biscuit | |
| But i risk it, i mean my life, i sacrifice | |
| So fuck y'all twice, thats right i'm actin sheist | |
| When shots pop off, you betta duck when i done | |
| With the automatic pump and i'm never in the shootin slum | |
| My face isn't definately the law | |
| In the jigsaw, puzzle | |
| While i screw and muscle on my six-saw | |
| Bringin it to ya ass, in a way you never felt it | |
| Yo whole fuckin' staff, who get they wigs melted | |
| When i'm rushed out, fresh out | |
| Verbal bash-out | |
| P.d.'s that made man | |
| Ready to get off for some action | |
| [interlude] | |
| (you wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) | |
| ... when you dealin' with some made men | |
| (you wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) | |
| ... don't be sleepin' on these made men | |
| (you wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) | |
| ... when you fuckin' with some made men | |
| (you wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) | |
| [verse two] | |
| Yo, its warfare, i'm splittin your hair, with a missle | |
| Cos i be squezzin' that type of shit up out my pistol | |
| Don't talk that tone, if you ain't gon' spark the chrome | |
| You shook and ain't got no tests, starts the roam | |
| Yo, we man of respect, with our own dialect | |
| Elements surprise, wise guys, skill you ain't acquirin' yet | |
| I'm on that, hot rock and punk contact | |
| Combat, doubt that can so you contract | |
| Close casket, with the eight by ten | |
| Sittin on top of the coffin | |
| Never again fuck with made men | |
| Your last breath, the kiss of death, from the smith&wess | |
| Splittin' flesh and i still got a mission left | |
| I keep they thinkin' second guess and | |
| Mr. unpredictable, i'm askin', spittin' loogies from my weapon | |
| With indestructable niggas that called made man | |
| He grabbin' shit, i grab mine, so now we blazin' | |
| Tomorrow never dies, we suicid missionaries | |
| (come on cops) smokin' hats keeps my visions blurry | |
| My right hand nigga be my nickel nine on my ways | |
| Never hesitate to pull a gun so now you gotta face | |
| These never-minded motherfuckers with advances | |
| Mean i try to hear you, leave those shells in your heads, man | |
| My man, ok probably unmistakently | |
| Motherfuckers, who make a homicide and never mystery | |
| [outro] | |
| (you wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) | |
| ... when you dealin' with some made men ... |
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