So hop in your ride, roll the windows down, cause tonight's your night, get lost in the sound. Gonna crank the music loud! Baby blow the speakers out.
through your eyes in the mirror Blowing out your brains spontaneous combustion Lyrics like a barrel and cheering out bustin Fire breathin wicked shit melting microphones Blowing speakers
clone ass nigga wit no life of his own This is it, as Planet sets flames to the journal in your section Wit Kweli from Reflection Eternal Big up my nigga
all of the children are grown up And I will respond my time Knowing nobody gives us a hand Aye (Aye) If y'all niggas don't get ya money right This time
giant when you?re just too small No need to rush, take your time To adjust to the changes in my rhyme To you rappers, tonight?s your night You all jump straight up on your
million mega-cycles My rap folder is a megaton and higher than the Eiffel Tower with sniper rifle power To blow off your melon and it ain't no tellin
ass booger hanging out of your nose Im the stink on your toes im the weed to your rose Not one of your friends but one of your foes And spittin the wicked
Twista, first time I kicked it off with 'Adrenaline Rush' Next album I kicked it off with 'They Kill Us All' This time, I'ma show you how to 'Check That
was crooked He had blow out in Brooklyn All this while he let the fiends cook it The baseheads stirred it up, plus they got to blow it up Dropped it
team'll go at your main source We're not tourists, hit bosses and take hostage Your whole setup, from the ground up we lock shit Blood flood your eye, fuck up your
the fo', Want any hustler stacking dough with probably crack the blow And my overtime is where your taxes go I gain your trust Get you to hand weight
s for real for real (ha ha) Represent, flick it up all day nigga, Immobilarity Ya'll know my work, this category is raw [Raekwon] Aiyo slash your position Verbal mike physician Blow
' to let a nigga slide I've been dyin' to get a gat I dared to try now prepare to die I rush your crib like Jehovah's Witness, blow up any Soldiers,
RZA] Yo, yo, back on the track Bound to make your neck snap Like riding the Scream Machine with no seat strap Bob, bitch, hot throb, bitch Get on your
the mass of everyone Ummm... I believe that's us And when the mics are on, and we bust It like an adrenalin rush To your dome and mine too and everyone
bent over The DayGlo nigga gets the red door mat It's a roller coaster when your shit's burnt toast Now Mr. Club owner knows your jam When your jam
programmed to receive. You can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave! Wasted Time Well baby, there you stand With your little head, down in your
