Ghetto Symphony

Yo, nephew

Give me some of that No Limit shit

Yeah

We got my **** Fiend in the house

C-Murder in this motherfucker

Mystikal all up in this bitch

Goldie Loc

My nephew Silkk the Shocker

Oh yeah, we got somethin' for the ladies too

Mia X, run this bitch

Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator

Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler

I'm Mother of the Tank, gave birth to an army

Guerrilla millionaires, so don't even ask

If you wanna get to clappin', soldier action specialty of style

We made the whole world respect the underground while

Some of y'all **** talk shit and get mad

'Cause we did it with a foot up your ass and it's still there

I cares not about your clique or your block

I'm still that same bitch to run up in your spot and knock you off

Broad with the cause, bitch on a mission

Keep them **** by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin'

Missin' the game, damn, bitch, it's written in plain ebonics

So shake that come up off your brain and do the knowledge

Mia X, kickin' off the Ghetto Symphony

Next soldier up, tell 'em who the fuck you be

What? It's Fiend y'all

Put me in the ring with real emcees and watch 'em run for cover

And hidin' in trees to escape the mic that I breathe on

Bleed on, exceed on

Weak rappers with titles after twelve

Hear the bell, that's what I'll feed on

Microphone Don, walkin' flesh, talkin' bomb

Bringin' harm to the calm and don't be alarmed

It's the African, oh you wanna battle again?

I'll turn you and your mans to my yesterday plans

Oh damn, totin' two pistols like Yosemite Sam

Old man be grand, loud as the Southern band

Pickups and caravans, the soldier that could, that can

I would be the man, but God beat me to them plans

Next up, on the M-I-C

C-Murder, get busy for the symphony

I be's that **** on the tank, always trippin', never slippin'

Have you reminiscing and missin' that fool in your picture

Call me Bossalinie bitch without the Mo's at shows

And fuck those who opposed, we runnin' them hoes, bitch (Why?)

Three-hundred and sixty-five motherfuckin' days a year

I have your fool staggering just like a bottle of beer

You **** runnin' from the cops, well I ain't runnin' no more

I flip the bird when I swerve, man, fuck them hoes

I'm crazy, my nagga, but I thought y'all knew that shit

Oh you ain't seen the news? Shit, I'm the **** with the tru tat

Ask my **** Keno, shit, I just don't give a fuck

And if you run up wrong, I'ma fuck you up, you bitch you

Next up, on the M-I-C

Silkk the Shocker, get busy on the symphony

Now would I come this far, fucker, don't it sound like a hit?

Y'all didn't know what the fuck y'all thinkin' 'bout, you sound like a bitch (Bitch)

Shit, it sound like a wish, you know when you got a motherfuckin' hit, bitch? (When?)

When it sound like this

Or you fake **** get enough heart, and try to bust a rhyme to the clique

Fuck around and miss, then fuck around and get found in a ditch

Got labels at my door when they find I can gross this much

Freestyle shit, you can tell 'em I ain't wrote this stuff

Silkk the Shocker, KLC perv and mash like Snoop and Dre, ****

Y'all can relate to talkin' 'bout gettin' a contract for MJ figures

It ain't where you from, it's where the fuck you at

N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I'm fuckin' with that

Next up, on the M-I-C

Mystikal, get busy on the symphony

Ooh shit, motherfucker, god damn

I keep it hype, bitch, I'm the man

When the fuck you ever heard somebody say that they don't sing my song?

Or that I don't roll on every fuckin' verse I'm rappin' on

That **** Mystikal tighter than a motherfucker

Huh? I came up off of Peter Piper bells and the LL's bad

These **** be pissed off with me 'cause their old lady call me their baby

Emcees piling up and crowding up, but I'm their favorite

The type to fly, buyin' a Z-28 IROC

And chop you in your motherfuckin' face (Hi-yah!)

Your album ain't tight, what in the fuck is you pushin'?

You played out, just like old woman pussy

Next up, on the M-I-C

Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony

Now watch me put these haters to the test, accumulating with my stress

Fold 'em, fuck 'em fifty, get this shit up off my chest

Releasing anger, all natural gangsta energy

Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House game

Motherfuckers better start backin' up (What up? What up?)

We in the Tank punk busters, motherfuckers don't wanna see us loc'd up

Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks, the same thing

Smashin' for the hood, 'cause I wanted to gangbang

Last up, I believe that's me

Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony

This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics

That thought I wasn't comin' out with some exquisite rhymes

But that's okay, 'cause now I'm back

To kill all the rumors, and straighten the facts (Say what?)

Like um, doin' bad, gettin' ganked on my bank

Now you all on my dick when you see I'm a true Tank, dawg

You say, "Mmm, mmm, mmm, ain't that something?

Dogg, I bought yo' album, my ****, that shit is bumpin'

I apologize, I'm sorry for the drama (I'm sorry)

Can I get your autograph for my baby mama?"

Shit, I'm settin' it off, lettin' it off, bustin'

Hustling, rushing, dusting motherfuckers

Droppin' the heat, lockin' the street, we 'posed to

I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?

Top of the line, first class (First class)

I pop a cap in yo' ass, then pop some more in the glass

Too legit to quit, I'm spittin' gangsta shit

Man, fuck all that yappin', we 'bout that gun clappin'

No Limit, yeah, that's what's happenin'

Fuck all that yappin', we 'bout that gun clappin'

Yeah

In the real world, talk is cheap

Actions speak louder than words

No Limit records, here to protect and serve