! Don't mek we hold you Don't mek we hold you Don't mek we hold you Don't mek we hold you Don't mek we hold you Don't mek we hold you Don't mek we hold
get overshadowed when you come in contact Beware, set and prepare to enter verbal combat Verse Four: Method Man Fuck you losers, while you fake jacks I makes
like you just don't care And if you niggas get pussy, and y'all don't need to jack off Then all you niggas say, hell yeah, hell yeah, hell yeah And ya
uh oh [Verse 4: Wish Bone] We came up Eazy died you think we was gon give up We still some raw Don't you deny you know we brought this game up From the
the credit I bet it didn't even occur that we would eventually meet with ya, kid Don't crash, collide, lock up with the enemy And I don't wanna say a
credit I bet it Didn't even occur that we would eventually Meet with ya don't crash, collide lock up with the enemy And I don't wanna say a nigga name
bitch Dogpound and Cypress you fuckers What you think about that? You brother's don't got it B-rizzle you know it, fo' shizzle My nizzle, you gon' get
splitten You corrosin' on the floor, shaken and snake bitten You in a cold sweat like James of the names you knew Don't mean shit to me and you ain't
's all mechanical Hear no, speak no, see no, but we know Don't even try to breathe though, an amigo don't move unless you feelin the whole move Like a
better rock ya'll hoodies And hold your girl tight, before we pop that pussy It be so real, I don't need no deal My mass appeal make a marvel out how
your set Now don't throw it up and if you ain't with it quick it or you gon get wet Now make your money and don't sneak and try to diss me We finna start
nigga?) Yeah, it's time man (aight nigga, begin) Yeah, straight out the fuckin dungeons of rap Where fake niggaz don't make it back I don't know how to
with my third eye You don't understand, why you're publically banned until you recognize the writing skills of a black man Black Editor, all of us ain't
it make murder for my loved ones Thought you was down to die but you been found a lie, so fuck you Can't trust you, gotta bust you Plus you nigga can'
or you can hit the paper big time You gon murder like strick nine, wit a grip nine, sever bitch time Cuz I gotta mine, and it's on [Ras Kass] Why you
factors Back through Patterson, J.C. and Hacken-sack Step uncorrect and get blackened The assassin, find da MC's by the jazz men I don't tote guns I tote funds While you
empire to make Toast till we all die,till we burst and break From knives to guns,from the rich to the slums We ran outta dope,I don't think so son While
Wit persistence I perceive to supply you wit what you need, no room for greed Better go around and when it come to you don't bite off more than you can
