(feat. Bun B , Dirt Bomb , Z-Ro)

[Talking]

^!$$% don't act like he don't know who I'm talkin' bout

(Fifty-Cent piece drops on table)

[Coinciding With 50 Cent's Intro on 'Get Rich Or Die Tryin']

[Scarface]

It's your worst day, run and tell somebody
It's your worst day.
It's your worst day, run and tell somebody

It's your worst day.

What it is?, ^!$$%!

You don't wanna get involved with this here, ^!$$%!
Is you a (*##$ ^!$$%?, you a (*##$ ^!$$%!
Look at yourself and then !@#^yze me!

This mother$#&@ing G
It's the flossy, you got girl draws and
Girl flaws and, a braud ^!$$%!

I peeped your whole hand when you came in
I'm a man and I hang men
Play the game to win

All mission play on ten
Scarface 'finna do it again
Mash you ^!$$%, stash them ^!$$%s

Don't make me upstrap and blast you ^!$$%s
Once again, it's a only if you must I do it
Lock you in my scope and blast your $$# through it

I'ma poet
The image and the style that you used to
Cuz you don't keep it real like you used to

A O.G., S.A., fool to the hole fa'sho
So ^!$$%s slow your mother$#&@ing roll
'Fore I come through with the same M-11

The Feds took from me, and shoot you in yo mother$#&@ing stomach

[Chorus: Scarface]

You a Snitch ^!$$%, when you rat on yo friends
(*##$ ^!$$%, when you still be in pads with yo kin
You'z a Snitch ^!$$%, running when the drama go's down

You was ballin' at first what happened to the man in the south
You a Snitch ^!$$%, specializin' at bumpin' ya gums
(*##$ ^!$$%, countin' on ya bricks but all I see is crumbs

Snitch ^!$$%, ain't you tired of running your mouth
And you can go home, 'fore the Devil run in your house


[Verse: Z-Ro]
Now snitch fellas get up under my skin
That's why I don't mess with friends

Unless it's my Mac-10
I'm the king of the ghetto, Z-Ro the crooked in the flesh
Looking for head shots, cuz (*##$ fellas get the bullet-proof vests

What you scared for?
What happened to all the tough $$# talk
The way you was bumpin', I thought you had a taste for asphalt

Look at momma's baby out here starvin' for his $$#
Whippin', chiefin', with a magician then drippin' out his $$#, listen
I'll be damned if I pull a rabbit out a hat

Well pull my 40 out of holster, and do this snitch fella on his back
WHOA!, look how I handled this .44
My conscience be screaming Z-Ro Murder Mo!, Murder Mo!

And these snitch fellas on "How I'm Living" try snitchin' on "BET"
But got a restraining order against "Murder I-N-C"
This how we ride, and ain't never gon' make a switch dude

Z-Ro the Crooked, I'll be damned if I be a snitch fool

[Chorus]


[Verse 3: Bun B]
It's Bun B I go back-a like "Atlanta Black Crackers"

I back-slap a, back-packer, from here to Cakalacka{Carolina's}
Wack cracka, short stopper or dope beginner
(*##$ I ain't ya chicken hitter, bring the heater get you wetter(get you

wetter)
We can flip the caliber magnum hanger
Step a bear off in his chest, you better hope I don't land one
If I @@#! the (*##$ back..aim it at your chest
It'll be piece before they even find the pieces to your vest

We relievers of ya stress..ease ya fame
Put this pistol in your mouth, you better lead them treason games
Now when ya momma warned ya about
Bun and he's insane
Kill a kid over a quarter, who just keeps plain

Now watch this kids plain, 'fore you $#&@in with the triller
Z-Ro the young guerilla
And Face the born killa
((*##$ ^!$$%)
Bend around in the dark for dough

((*##$ ^!$$%)
You here the sounds you spark for the floor

[Chorus]