[Intro: Fes Taylor]
Yo, check it, yeah, uh-huh
Yo, check it, yeah, yo
[Fes Taylor]
Yo, let me set it off like this
Put it out quick, before they bite this
Profes, who? Come on, I write hits
Pull up the whips, no motorbike tricks
We crack bottles like drunks on the corner
It's over the wall, this one a goner
Big league, still rock fatigue
When I do dirt, fly when I rock the beat
On stage with lots of peep, the crowd full of
Lots of freaks, I gots to meet
Slide to the download spot on the creek
Thirty dollar room, she said 'you so cheap'
I said, you so right, boo, I'm on a budget
It ain't in my plans to pay for no loving
I get high til the day I die
Thug life til the day I fry, say bye
When we ride to the Mac tracks, and Wolfpack
Don't cross 'em like a black cat
Rat-tat-tat, if ya mouth yap-yap-yap
Telling the boys where I stash gats at
I rep the Stat, it's the best of rap
You pre-school MC's get left back, yo
We got this rap shit locked, gangsta, my ratchet's pop
We sitting at the top, wait til my album drop
Is he the one, yes, the kid is here
So everybody else stand clear
I declare war, Two 4, ready to roll
Rhymes like handguns, ready to blow
Danger, son, I'm just letting you know
Another banger, what ya'll expect from the pro?
[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor]
Everybody in the front get live
Everybody in the back, wave 'em, side to side
Now, everybody on the top, get high
Everybody on the bottom, everything all right
[Fes Taylor]
Aiyo, hold up, wait a minute
Party ain't a party, 'less we up in it
Lot of pretty women, we ain't spinnin'
Difference between me and them, they pretending
Keep it real, OK, radio get no play
Rap styles, sound like you from the old days
Should of went on tour with the O'Jay's
In the hallway, almost shot Crackhead Jose
And I don't play, beat me, no way
Get bag mazed, won't say, all day
Street codes, love hoes that'll deep throat
Girls, I'm trynna lay you like free throw
Wild out if I don't see dough
Big four-four in a forty belows
Squeeze those, play it right through your peephole
Kick doors, take yours, like the repo
Quiet when the heat blow, when the beef is on
You better creep low, anything goes
When it's war, if it's on it's on, shot for shot
Song for song, ya'll been doing this wrong
So I came here with W.P., Hennessey for the whole squad
Yo, son, it's nothing to me
Still, thugging a rhyme, they loving the beat
Before the rap game, kid had to hustle to eat
Used to, muscle the streets, run from the beast
Cracks in my cheeks, puffin' the leak, heat under my seat
Any M.C. want it with me?
Rap tournament, for a fifty G. fee
The great L.G., could it be, make everybody freeze now
Somebody scream loud
Two 4, we turn it out, greedy city, Dirty South
[Chorus 2X]
[Hook: Fes Taylor]
We gon', get, this shit, right
We flip, like, we piss, right
It's our, turn, to rock, this
I got, this, so watch, this
Ya'll gon' see, it's Dub, P
Great L, G, ya'll feel, me
Mighty, Two, 4 War, yo
Healthy, all, we won't fall