[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 lift
