[Yeah hehehahaha, we goin platinum nigga! Plaahahatinum.]
Yeah, you got the Live Squad in this motherfucker We got my nigga Treach from Naughty by Nature in this motherfucker My nigga Apache up in this motherfucker
Verse One: Tupac
My Mossberg goes boom, gimme room, can I catch it Talkin quick and then I vic just tryin to keep from gettin blasted I had enough I put a hit upon them bastards Boo-yaa! Turned a snitch into a casket Now they after me, prowling for a niggaz bucks Time to see, who's the G, with the bigger nuts Buck buck, big up and livin reckless Niggaz with a death wish step in with a Tec and I'll wet this Yeah this shit is hyper Two to one I'm writing representing and I'm striking like a viper Huh, I got my mind made up, I got my nine Ring the alarm, and strong arm must run Some niggaz need to feel me with a passion I'm old fashioned, run up on me nigga and get blasted With five deadly venomz
(Yeah 'Pac, fuck that, still hittin em up with That old deadly shit. Aiyyo Treach where you at? Step up and hit they ass up with the wickedness.)
Verse Two: Treach
We come to hit you with a sock full of Brooklyn To the Onyx of your nose, punk is funky like skunk blunts Stunk like funk cunt I come to take you on a war rough and rugged route And if another doubts I blow your fuckin mother out And that's the street scarred style I shout I'm-de-MC-wit-de-nasty-mouf, and kick the bitch out Sue me? I pay the lawyer for ya oh boy yeah Plus my style's ten to twenty fuckin pounds more I take you quicker than a picture of a punk ya pickin shit Pickin pockets with a razor stoppin Russian rockets Not shoplift, I'm liftin shop Once you sound hot, cause if you ain't a perfect ten My sign is stop! It's twenty mother-crooked-fuckin styles in em Like women I did em I'm in for deadly ready venom
Verse Three: Live Squad
Yeah, as I take a puff I get rough, Big Mad To put it on, can't none come tougher see
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