Assed Out

歌詞

The RZA, the GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck Raekwon, the Chef, U-God, Ghostface Killah, Masta Killa And the Me, yeah, yeah, come on, now, now What's happening? Who get it cracking like a neck snapping For the rapping and who them fellas packing yelling Staten From the background, I back down a few Try to clown us in the past, where they at now? I'm ill as baby powder with the smack down, for the record My brain is like the project projected, for the Method Go see my nigga Kush, he got the best shit for burning This one go out for whom it may concerning Spending they entire earning Trynna get a higher learning, MC's is vermin Like E be Sermon y'all too determined Feeling ya self like Pee-Wee Herman While we at it, let's tighten up our grips around that cabbage Silly rabbits, how many kids will trick you out your carrots? Little bastards and ghetto bitches, I break you like a bad habit My dick is zoo and just too big for its britches Uh, so fuck a mister and your misses Cottonmouth niggas etched out like Merry Christmas That all Uh, huh, be home Knock, knock, who is it? Tical, I pop digit My block too hot to visit, round here, you gots to live it MC's, you must admit it, I'm deadly on this mic life Think back on this premise, anyone of y'all can get in I breeze, backwards sleeves and THC I bleed, kamikazes and forty OZ's America's most, the better the smoke, the better the quotes For cheddar, Meth'll sever the throat, whatever the coast I'm home, let the sun shine on, get his grind on And get some phone time, every time I'm in your time zone Look here, it's crooked letter I, y'all don't meet nothing but crooks here It's hot in hell's kitchen, get your cookware, for goodness MC's is like that shit chicks be gushing For pushing, got me token down to Central Booking I stick out as if Tical just walked up in the party with my dick out And I'm prepared to take the shit I dish out On the, yo, on the expressway, suddenly, I unhit the brakes A mistake, patrol figure just, ran the plates I pull to the shoulder, a half mile ahead The vibe got colder when the marksman said Yo, you in the truck, get the fuck out your car Put your hands where my eyes could see, not far A fat slob, with pepper spray in the canister Donut shop lounger, nine mil brandisher Plus my half pound just rang the bell Of the bloodhound, had an acute sense of smell I guess he was tired of the strip and booking whores Moving off a tip he's claimed he's looking for Some MC's wanted for a string of break ins Last seen wearing long minks and snake skins