[Intro: Fes Taylor]
You know what this is, this that Mighty Healthy
That Two 4 War Entertainment shit
I told them niggas, man, I told them not to mess with them niggas, man
Everybody, hands to the sky, stick 'em up
Everybody, hands to the sky, stick 'em up
Everybody, hands to the sky, stick 'em up
Everybody, stick 'em up
[Fes Taylor]
Aiyo, Taylor on the street, bully in the block
I heard you holding heat, give it to me hot
Non-stop, yo, we never friendly with cops
Hit off rooftops, where ya hoe got her virginity popped
Aiyo, you cross L.G., now you gotta die
It's W.P., laying in the grey sky
With Soul Train broads, plates of jiggawoo pie
Or we aim at the law, keep the pistol by your side
You lied to the world, told 'em you was a thug
We stepping on your Lugz, when we up in the club
Dirty dubs, thirty-thirty slugs and mugs
Put your face in the mud, your people holding a grudge
If ya'll want it to? No fucking problem
Hop out on your crew, yeah, nigga, I popped 'em
And what, all of your men's is butt
Pack it in, pack it up, then we clapping it up
And now Profes, ain't to be fucked with
Take off the Roley with the diamond clusters
Let me get that, had a chit-chat, with your kit kat
Rugged all night, she told me where you live at
Twenty four hours later, pillaging your crib
Got your wife tied up, stick her with pins in front of the kids
Pop your lid, extort the whole block and slid
Kid, see me holding shots to your lids
Copped the Benz, then ya'll really going hate
Don't call me by my name, just consider me the great
[Interlude: Fes Taylor]
I told them, I told 'em not to do it, man, yo, yeah...
Everybody, hands to the sky, stick 'em up
Everybody, hands to the sky, stick 'em up
Everybody, hands to the sky, stick 'em up, stick 'em up
[Fes Taylor]
Aiyo, Warriorz for life, son keep it Milly
Killah Hillbillies, ice you like Chilly Willy
Get it started, get retarted, wish you had a chance
To say bye, like ships departed, we double park it
Heads is off, blasting you poors, last longer than
Batteries, attached to your horn with mad swords
Yo, we run the block, who wanna take it
Talking to the cops, you could fry with the bacon
Life is what you make it, learned it long ago
Get on anybody's song, for dough, we make it blow
Shaolin, New York, that's what I'm repping
You better not come to my hood, without a weapon
Two 4 War, see me standing in the front
Pulled up at the club, in a slamming Benz truck
Music pump when we hop out, my playas got to glow
Bitch slap Officer Brown in the 1-2-0
Aiyo, we don't really care, so why ya'll asking?
Phony MC's, I hate ya'll with a passion
Profes, niggas know me, way back
Clapped at your homey, left his eightball holy
It's Pretty Toney, good looking out, the only MC
To care if he talking out, so what you staring at?
Never seen a real rapper, battle me is like
Death, the way you feel after, now you really want
Drama, I can bring it to you, it's so hard to say goodbye
Make 'em sing it to you, sing it to you
[Outro: Fes Taylor]
Sing it you, sing it to you, nigga
I told 'em, man, I told ya'll niggas, man
I told ya'll niggas, man, I told ya'll we wasn't playing man
Ya'll acting like these pistols don't go off
Like we ain't gangsta... ya'll know what this is
This that official hip hop, that stick ya hands up, pop shit
Feel me, yo, what up, Shaolin, Gatling Island, Cyanide, yeah
Yo... my Jungle Nilz niggas, my Killah Hill nigga, what up?
This is a stick-up...