Créditos
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Onyx
Performer
Big Pun
Performer
DJ LS ONE
Scratches
Noreaga
Performer
Self
Remixer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
DMX
Composer
Tyrone Taylor
Composer
Fred Scruggs
Composer
Sticky Fingaz
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ken "Duro" Ifill
Mixing Engineer
Patrick Viala
Mixing Engineer
Self
Recording Engineer
Tony Black
Mixing Engineer
Letras
Yeah-yeah-yeah (Yeah-yeah)
Southside Queens shit (Afficial Nast, word up!)
South Bronx shit, huh (Yo, Big Pun, Noreaga, what the deal?)
(Afficial Nast in here, yo)
This is it now, you get shut down
Afficial Nast got the whole game locked down
Noreaga, Big Pun, holdin' it down
This is it now, you get shut down
Yo, aiyyo, I smoke weed from housing, buy Phillies, it's hot, what
**** betta stop, dunn, or catch a hot one
I'm like the Top Gun, Mohawk shit, rock my hat back
As long you fuck with Onyx, then you safe in Iraq
I light a dub up, all of my ****, we tear the club up
From Iraq to Bal-T-more
We do a song, keep the shit fuckin' ghetto like a hood see-saw
So what-what? Fuckin' dick, what's the recall for?
Yo, every other week you got a brand new law
Yo, them crackers not knowing what to do wit' they time
That's why they really wanna focus on Iraq crime
So what-what? Fuck you, ****, yo, we taking shine, yeah
Shut 'em down, second wave desert BX style
We rep wild – oppose, be ya mom's dead child
Fucked up, like blowing Fed trial, it's set now
Get blown down, you sped *blaow!* — exile
My cartel drop shells, burn a 100 L's
You frail, we raise hell, you **** get blazed well
You get closed now, hosed down, verbal semi-'matic
Cat with a Henny habit, I murk any static
Like a madman going Postal-Postal
Touch mics, froze you
Fuck it! Son, I'll ghost you
Word up, I'm not a killa, I just bust a lot
Run in the spot with the rusted Glock, then I bust a shot
It's not a game, dunn, we in it for life
Shit is hot, son, send 'em to Christ, surrender ya ice
Criminal life is dangerous ill, trained to kill
Aim the stainless steel, your brains is spilled
The game is real, you playing wit' death
Got grimey **** that'll label you West and lay you to rest
South Suicide wake the dead, hate will spread
Spray three eights of lead, erase ya head
Jail bound, eternally Hell bound
22 shots of shell round, rock ya head in the ground
(So what-what?) This is it now, you get shut down
Afficial Nast got the whole game locked down
(So what-what?) Noreaga, Big Pun, holdin' it down
This is it now, you get shut down (Shut down... shut down... shut down...)
Yo, I'm the livest **** alive, watch me show you
I'll blow your head off your shoulders, your own mother won't know you
My squad is supernatural, don't make me blast you with a Ruger capsule
My crew will catch you and trap you inside of Koopa's Castle
I turn ya to Zeus' statue, like Medusa's looking at you
Produce the future raps or subtract you like dudes in math do
I'm always moving past you, even when I use the bathroom
Wipin' my asshole with pages straight out the Book of Matthew
I'm looking at you with my third optical vision
I hop out of prison and find me a hot little tropical women
Now I'm locked in position, ready to rock with conviction
Chewbacca's descendant, hitting you with cosmical weapons
You might as well listen, 'cause you out of suggestions
Out of submission, if you can't stand the heat – get out of the kitchen
Peace to Onyx, I miss 'em for they knowledge and wisdom
Pay homage and listen to Hip-Hop's newest and most violent addition
Yeah! Sticky Fingaz!! I'm still alive!!!
That mean the greatest rapper of all time ain't never died!!!
I'm underground! Too hard for the radio
MTV won't even play my video!
They scared to death, motherfuckers tryin' to ban me
I'm the one who told Ol' Dirty to shut down the Grammy's
(Shut 'em down!) Who think that they can get with me, Stick?
I burn all a'ya'll I don't care if Puffy do your remix (What!)
I'm crazy, runnin' up in Def Jam with a handgun
Fuck a royalty, I'm holdin' Russell for ransom
I'll make you sleep where the worms do
I couldn't care less if you ate shit, died, and turned blue
**** like us gon' bring the game back
There's so many wack rappers out here, I don't know where to aim at
I swear to God ain't nobody touching me! (Nobody!)
Next time you see me, it's gonna be the last thing you ever see! (What!)
Word up, this is it now, you get shut down
Afficial Nast got the whole game locked down
(So what-what?) Noreaga, Big Pun, holdin' it down
This is it now, you get shut down
(So what-what?) This is it now, you get shut down
Afficial Nast got the whole game locked down
(So what-what?) Noreaga, Big Pun, holdin' it down
This is it now, you get shut down
(So what-what?)
"Shut 'em down, start the violence, we whylin'-whylin'"
"Shut 'em down, start the violence, we whylin'-whylin'"
Written by: DMX, Fred Scruggs, Sticky Fingaz, Tyrone Taylor

