Daz:
|
Aw yeah!
|
Right about now it's time to get busy
|
Huh, straight out the box, nonstop
|
Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I
|
|
(Wait a minute, um)
|
|
Crooked I:
|
This is the art of, manslaughter
|
When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water
|
You entered the wrong scuffle
|
You catchin' a chrome buckle
|
I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles
|
Deliver the sick verbals
|
My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,
|
your body spin around, in six circles
|
Diminishin' infamous menaces
|
I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents
|
Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region
|
Freezin g's in your legion
|
Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician
|
It's all about Crooked
|
These bitches shout Crooked
|
I'll make you say the West Coast aint shit without Crooked
|
I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled
|
When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables
|
I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya
|
Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha
|
|
Daz:
|
Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?
|
Can you fucc with this?
|
Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up
|
Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit
|
Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!
|
|
Kurupt:
|
Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts
|
The storm, my vocals float like arts
|
In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme
|
My microphone massacres every year the same time
|
With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker
|
Up against the microphone night stalker
|
With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me
|
As you can see I continue mashin' MCs
|
Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer
|
Extra-terrestrial microphone terror
|
In effect, get infected
|
Tell me what the fucc you expected
|
These venemous injections
|
I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections
|
From these poisenous melodies and selections
|
I select the methods of slow anguish
|
I mangle shit with my language
|
Tell me, have you ever seen one elope
|
With the microphone
|
In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode
|
Baboom, alone in my own zone
|
So don't compare me to none
|
Not one's nearly
|
Severe, cuz I severely, impare MCs
|
Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories
|
Sincerely, I could have the spot locked
|
Niggas get stoned for touching microphones
|
with no knowledge on how to rock
|
|
Daz:
|
Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop
|
Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table
|
We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah
|
Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house
|
Alkaholiks!
|
|
Xzibit:
|
When I was enlisted
|
I came to the table double fisted
|
Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies
|
Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities
|
Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy
|
It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail
|
Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run
|
See we do it how it can't be done
|
I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won
|
Or direct descendant of the gatling gun
|
Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one
|
That aint a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep
|
You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street
|
Ready to repeat, round after after round at you
|
All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through
|
I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine
|
I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes
|
Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper
|
I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper
|
It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust
|
Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus
|
My Dogg Kurupt
|
|
Daz:
|
Yeah, no shit
|
Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that
|
|
That's what I'm talkin' about
|
West coast, we been doin' this shit for years
|
Aint nothin' happenin' wit' that
|
Battlecat
|
(Don't step up)
|
Right, right
|
(Don't step up, unles you wanna get hurt)
|
Huh, huh, huh
|
|
(Get get get get hurt)
|
Whatcha say
|
Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle
|
(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)
|
That's what I'm talkin' about
|
Daz Dillinger
|
(Don't |