| Come on (bcc) | |
| Come on (mfc) | |
| Come on (bcc) | |
| Come on (yeah!) | |
| Aiyyo rock, rock, rock | |
| Everybody say rock, not lou from suburbs to pj's | |
| So watch ya hootchie, groupies get dudes beat up | |
| Or heat is leave the scene and blaze to get ya fleece stuck | |
| See me on the streets 'bra, i'll break yo' teeth up and take yo' beeper | |
| Two piece your man and let big noc put him in a sleeper | |
| Then see ya, catch me in a club on a wall | |
| Spliff in my hand, big-booty broad winin on my balls | |
| Surrounded my thugs, maybe two or two times ten | |
| Plus the other nine cats, my rapper card got in (your rapper card?) | |
| Yeah my rapper card, it works in live sessions | |
| Plus barbecues, hoes, clubs, weed spots ecetera | |
| [buckshot] | |
| Buckshot rock knots wit fists | |
| Niggas stay high while i rock wit this | |
| Mobb on y'all niggas like the infamous | |
| Too close wit the dillinger, two shots i don't miss | |
| I'm wiggin out while i'm diggin out backs | |
| Run from the gun claps, run three laps | |
| Perhaps, them niggas you sent to carjack | |
| Buckshot got stopped in they tracks wit macs | |
| Now this is what i act like when i smoke on black | |
| Stay high wit the lazy-eye, bomb wit facts | |
| >from the, street bible or the street quran | |
| Fake thugs ride the dick when my shit comes on | |
| I'm a nappy little nigga, still goin strong | |
| You can eat a dick while i eat a thong (clue!) | |
| But still the bomb | |
| [tek] | |
| It's the wave-king, rock the two tone wallees strip-ons | |
| Don't wanna end up miss-on, then play your positi-on | |
| My grimy brooklyn niggas stay flippin ya chick | |
| While my crew from new jerus stay vickin ya whips | |
| Tek is the shit, ain't nobody spittin like this | |
| Deep impact steez been like a chromed out six | |
| Wit the amg kit, ericsson wit the chip | |
| Y'all stockin-cap copy-cats, get off the dick | |
| I keep the livin quarter held down wit two nines | |
| One in the bed, one in the bathroom at all times | |
| So while i'm takin a shit, i'm at route and plan a hit | |
| The amount we flip depends on what we get | |
| It's like a wall street trick, dirty money move quick | |
| My mans wear stones you can tip the scales wit | |
| On they ears and wrists alone for every deaf one's bone | |
| Look, ain't no tellin how many gats i've thrown | |
| [rock] (steele) | |
| Come on (yo for all my dogs gettin wild) | |
| Come on (yo yo for all the shorties on the prowl) | |
| Come on (yo yo for all the soldiers on the streets) | |
| Come on (yo yo it's yo' time to eat) | |
| [lidu rock] | |
| Yo the set i claim is the set that bang | |
| To the muthafuckin end, i be doin my thing (yeah!) | |
| Lidu rock, know the name in new york we g stackin | |
| First the bloods and the crips, now bitches is carjackin | |
| Like my nigga craig and em say, "fuck that shit!" | |
| Rockin shines in the 'ville, you better tuck that shit | |
| Or watch yo' step baby, watch where you walk | |
| I put a slug up in yo' mouth so that ass won't talk | |
| For real son, now we got mad cops on the block | |
| Cuz we hold it down for doc and i keep my heat cocked | |
| Lidu rock, what the fuck i know y'all niggas mad at me | |
| So if you rep for yours go 'head take a stab at me, muthafucker | |
| [ruck] | |
| You a many style copy-cat, ?bendy mile? stockin cap | |
| Fake nigga from the projects who ain't got a gat | |
| Ruck reign supreme, aim the steam | |
| When the gun click, your ass shit navy beans | |
| Maybe these, niggas ain't ready for the magnum | |
| Force, the holocaust, balls i just dragged them | |
| Off lost in the sauce and of course i'm glad them | |
| Monkey niggas don't fuck wit the ruck cuz they fags, son | |
| The last one, to step to sean p caught a bad one | |
| Quincy toes tagged em after somebody stabbed em | |
| Cornball niggas wit drugs thinkin they weight great | |
| Still bummin money for stoges and a drakes cake | |
| [steele] | |
| Get it straight, y'all niggas fuckin wit some heavyweights | |
| Boot camp-ion champions on point like paper mates | |
| Demonstrate, spectacular venacular | |
| Smackin ya upside the back of ya head wit a spatula | |
| Snatchin ya, off the street like police | |
| Next week, they find your body washin up on the beach | |
| Don't speak if you ain't at norm (ain't got nuttin to say fool) | |
| Tally on, be gone, as we rally strong | |
| See me in brook-lyn where crooks be armed | |
| Terrorial disputes leave you in memorial suites | |
| Callin your troops, i shoot straight stay in ya place | |
| We the type you love to hate cuz we stay in your face | |
| Sayin our grace before we put our hands in our plates | |
| Carnivorous lyricist, niggas fish like fillet | |
| My mind spray like a murderer's nine spray | |
| The crime way, get mine three-hundred sixty-five day | |
| [dj clue] | |
| Dj clue, the professional | |
| Part one, you know how we do it | |
| Word up, rest in peace my nigga donnie brasco | |
| My nigga b.i.g. word up | |
| And we out, till next time | |
| For all parties big skane 800-570-3657 | |
| Aight then |
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