(Children?
Children
Please be quiet children and listen to what I have to say)
[ Eightball ]
1-2, nigga
1-2, nigga
Yeah nigga
Mic check, nigga
Suave click in the motherfuckin house
Eightball the Fat Mack finna start this shit off for the nine-fizzive
Nahmsayin?
Pump that shit up, let's do this
[ VERSE 1: Eightball ]
1-2-3, Mister BIG, pull a rhyme out of my mind
And shoot it like a Glock-9 17 times
Like Rakim I ain't no joke, here's the deal on the real
Nigga, watch out for that banana peel
Slip and catch the same thing I put into the clip
Out the other end
Understand or should I come again?
See, like Mac Mall I be sick wid this, so picture this
My pockets spittin out much green shit like The Excorcist
I smoke so many trees Smokey the Bear is out to get me
Ice cold soul drippin from my asshole
And I can't wipe it away cause this kinda funk is here to stay
Just like an AK when I spray off all that's in my way
Call me the Glock of Rap, now could this mean that I'm the best?
Or would you rather wait to feel that hot shit in yo chest?
I pray to God hopin I won't be on the receiving end
Cause them young puppies packin straps like ( ? )
Now if I said I was Macbeth I'd be a lyin man
But where I'm from if I'm not strapped I be a dyin man
Cause niggas snort that shit like Superfly and get so high
And when they ass out that shit will make 'em do or die
But me, I'm on that green sticky and that Hennessy
350 pounds of pimp nigga from Tennessee
Eightball uncut from your ears to yo gut
Peace to MJ fucking G
And now here's T
[ VERSE 2: Tela ]
( ? ) hit that lobby, man, dead bodies, man
Mr. Mike musta took his dick out, any shotty, man
I see my nigga big Ball off that wall
Like that Michael Jackson, what the fuck, nigga happened?
He says I'm late for the job, Suave
Handle it, shit candle lit was involved, nod
My head up and down with no hesitation, God
I'm seein clowns hangin from that gravition, I'm
Thinkin niggas ain't playin in Texas
Snap off these motherfuckin necks like on The Excorcist
Young and the Restless type of unsolved shit
South Circle's the clique, fuckin Suave's the shit
Bitch, and now I'm rollin with them Draper boys
Tela makin paper, boy
5-0 beater, ain't nothin like sweeter, boy
Slow down, damn, I'm askin them in a Maximum
Hittin corners shakin, breakin down marijuana
Eightball, you got them papers, make 'em take us to a cloud nine
Six shots from a Tec-9
I'm fuckin up, damn, here we go
( ?) stereo I think I'm ( ? ) cold as Siberio
But Mr. Mike had his Mr. Mic, so
And SuperMike flashed with kryptonite, I know
It's lookin kinda shady
But I got yo back, baby, with my .380
[ VERSE 3: Mr. Mike ]
Now... I'm creepin around the backway
Peepin the scenery, because these niggas can't be seein me
He packs a Glock with an extra clip
It's mass hysteria, I'm darin ya to step when I drop my shit
As I annoint niggas to make my point, nigga
Me gives a fuck as I rock dis funky joint, nigga
So bow yo head to the mastermind
Cause everytime I recline some nigga's always after mine
(Peace treaties) Naw, fuck that (Why?)
Cause niggas don't wanna act how they know they ought to act
Back in the days when we used to sling ki's by the d-o-z's
E-n-s, ooh, what a mess
Best to leave me alone
And I ain't Kane but bitch, Big Daddy's Home
24 hours a day I slay
Pronounced dead, two to his head, he bled from an AK
Unsolved mysteries, could it be
Me and you, you and me gettin caught up in some fuckery?
Luckily the switch didn't click and niggas didn't panic
Now I'm stuffin white shit in my attic
Had it not been for the chip on my shoulder
Niggas that I communicated with would be older
But it seems they all died
And now the streets wanna fuck and get stuck with that nigga Mike
