Parental Discretion (feat. Busta Rhymes)

Aiyyo, I'm hard to talk to If you live, I probably thought you stalked you Where you walked to at night Caught you then tried to extort you New York niggaz is trigger happy, got Pataki scared This town ain't big enough For both of us and I ain't goin' nowhere There it is, plain and simple Like Jigga, my game is mental While slow niggaz better know I blow their brains out they temples I'm into black magical torture Romantic dramatical author, compatible with The average New Yorker, a fast talker Like Tony, when gas whores I'm the masked enforcer Out for the cash and the cho-cha Smash the coca, bottle it up watch the fiends, gobble it up If I roll up, you do what? Swallow the stuff I don't give a fuck anymore I'm only twenty-four years old And I've already broken every law I'm horror core, this is for the heads Runnin' up in your crib Knot if you still hot in under the bed Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Hey yo, my shit's the truth, 150 proof, no question Parental discretion advised, keep out the eyes of the youth It's too explicit, bullshit, I challenge the statistics Violence existed before our music was even suggested Arrested on sight, it's like there's no rights That's why I rhyme so aggressive and bring every message to life I fight the power spite the power the 90 percent Keep 10 and feed twin, half for personal reasons The seasons change, things rearrange, but I stay the same Play the game for the wealth until I've made myself a name So blame it all on the gangster rapper, thanks to Joey Crack For the chance to do it my way like Frank Sinatra I ain't a actor so it's all facts, strictly raw rap Totally intended for yours dressed in all black With the ski mask, or the pantyhose makin' cameos In liquor store cameras with the twin Calico's Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey So forget the boom, one look, you shook, you know I'm stickin' you Liftin' you off the ground, look down, that's where I'm puttin' you Look in my eyes and remember me, how does it feel mentally Havin' the enemy be the last thing you ever see? The recipe is death and I'm the chef, fricaseein' your flesh Be my guest, but I ain't cleanin' the mess Me and TS, we testin' niggaz faith, just to see they face Expression when destined to States, that death be in the case I'm in the state of grace, in the hated race, by the pagan face Couldn't fight us, made a virus, gave us AIDS I paint the wake 'cause they ain't get me yet, wet me Or reflect me yet, I know they comin' they just tryin' to let me sweat I wreck it like when I was just a boy, eatin' chips, ahoy Wasn't allowed to raise my voice, now I'm makin' noise No more toys, strictly Mac's and missiles, shorties with forties Packin' pistols catchin' bodies Make sure we'll get you So they say, I pray there's a better way My kids don't do as I do, they do as I say 'Cause daddy don't play Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Word is bond, one thing about MC's is that We don't conceal the truth, we present real pictures About the positive and the negative, so don't blame The hip-hop when your seed is learnin' the real life from us Do your duty at home and raise your child in the house Parents, you don't do your job we gonna Put your children to bed at nine o'clock Past your bedtime, you get your ass in bed You ain't 'posed to be hearin' this shit Word up, punishment motherfuckers By the Punisher and Busta Rhymes, hah Terror squad, Flipmode squad niggaz