Создатели
ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Capone-N-Noreaga
Вокал
Tragedy Khadafi
Вокал
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
P.L. Chapman
Автор песен
Victor Santiago
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Tragedy Khadafi
Исполнительный продюсер
Henri Charlemagne
Продюсер
Martin Moor
Исполнительный продюсер
Neil Levine
Исполнительный продюсер
Слова
Word up, son
I did it 'cause I had to discipline that puppy (Word, discipline them son)
Know what I'm sayin'? (I feel you)
Eating like he live (He ain't live)
Word up, nobody can't eat if I can't (Word up)
Know what I'm sayin'? (He can't eat, god?)
Word up (Can't nobody eat, god)
You ain't lie, now eat your food, kid (He ain't lie)
From your temple to your toes (Take his food, take ya food)
It's on (From your temple to your toes)
It's on now (Word up)
'Cause he's a halfway thug that he portray
If you got locked, that ass'd probably come home gay
Smack blood out ya mouth (What the fuck you say?)
Break ya feeble ass down ('Cause you ain't in my league)
Something you don't need
Yo, now ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black?
I used to peddle crack, you never sold drugs, so stop frontin'
I pushed the war button, you cold panicked
Use tools to fix ya fuckin' face like a mechanic
Dramatic, dynamic and underhanded
You say the shit that I say for so long, I can't stand it
The God bandit, erupt like a volcano
Shittin' lava right on they armor, you blood farmer, what, what?
Pasa, gato, lil' vato
Imbalance the scales of slaughter, Iraq discipline
Open ya face, spit on ya cut, pour the Henny in
Sweet****, fuck with Popeye, get smoked properly
It ain't even got to be handled on record
Just me and you, one on one, I'm only one
Yo, the only one, **** alphabet
Your power counterfeit, fraudulent, fraudulent, yo
Who's fascinated?
I get highly lifted and upgraded
You playa hate it, bite it before I made it
My opposition, competition, ya code scratched
Like Gats without serial numbers that don't match
CNN form, Genghis Khan, Art of War
Yo, you weak minded, dumb, deaf, the **** blinded
Left behind in lost and found, you can't find it
John the Baptist, observe, mad water
Surveillance my style, exile, feeble and fragile
Now what crew fuck you up like we do?
Two-five-two, CNN will shoot right through
Set it off, break you off, just like a big brick (What)
Chop that shit, mix and contaminate it
Navigate it, two-five, the most hated
My satellite will orbit in rap, planet's my oxygen
We poppin' in, kick through door, do-rag and moccasin
You can't stop, Lieutenant Arab
Thirsty to have what you have
Bust a new trade, Illuminati be the new age
Masquerade courageous, loud and boisterous in three stages
They try to get my thunn twist in cages
So get the word sent, spread it like love
You halfway thug ****, you portray
Yo, I used to hang around with y'all, cover ground with y'all
Now I flip, turn around and pull the pound on y'all
Dissolve that weak shit you though just revolved
Like the Earth at it's axis, I got access to map this
Pure Blackness, yo, attack this
Blood sucker of the poor, my power show and prove
Livin' on the fifth floor
We at war with the foolish
Get deducted, lose points, they can't do this
Like I do this, so what-what, what-what, what-what, what-what
Written by: P.L. Chapman, Victor Santiago

