(feat. D-12)

[Intro: Kon Artis]

Yeah, we straight from the census bureau
Haha, Runyan Ave
We lookin for yo' momma

D-12 - where yo' momma at?
Miko ? where yo' momma at?
Young Zee, hey Dame - where yo' momma at?

I wanna $#&@ that (*##$, her stankin $$#
Hey Em where yo' momma at? (Ohhhh-ohhhhh)
Yo..


[Kon Artis]
You know me, Denaun the same ol' ^!$$%

I spray paint your car up like Rain-O ^!$$%
See me and you are sorta like the same I guess
We both rock mics but yours is into our chest

You can't do nuttin to me, Runyan Ave's unruly
And truly this ain't a movie, you get slapped with the tooly
So pass the slimmy and the Hennessy, I got the energy

to steal every car in this vicinity, you feelin me?
Take it back to when Das EFX was sayin niggity-wiggity-wild
Piggity-pow, ^!$$% be out

You don't really want war, I'm chillin at your door
This uzi will have you bloody windmill-ing on the floor
I can't be a punk, my daddy wasn't none

I lose a fight after school and I came home and got one
You reap what you sew, that %#@! you oughta know
I keep it on the flo' under the seat ? I ain't a hoe!


[Chorus: Kuniva (Kon Artis)]
You know it's been a while but we feelin it now

(The rough sound muh'$#&@er, ^!$$%z killin it now)
!@%&! You don't want no problems B
(Get your name in the obituary column sheet)

It's that same ol' %#@!, ^!$$%z back again
(Yo yo, you fallin off, goin back to smokin crack again)
Hit the weed (guzzle your Corona) pass the Gin

(Better duck cause they back bustin gats again)

[Swifty]

A basket case indeed; stronger than a can of mace
Slap you in the face while you patty-cakin witcha seed
I'll be makin all these ^!$$%z wanna take a beam

And put it right on my head
You don't be takin heed, you probably idol the Feds
Havin meetings to recite what I said

Liable to have you in a medical room
Walk in that (*##$ with a cell phone then turn it on
"You fittin to die holmes!" {*explosion*}

Got a chrome that be $#&@in up %#@! worse than I
You would swear that I'm a Gemini
I kill a guy for nothin - eye to eye

And I ain't gotta touch them ^!$$%z face soon as I say somethin
Got a pump that'll tear your arm quick, when I leave a carcass
You would think you in Death Row's office (AHH!) {*gun clicks*}

(Hang a ^!$$%!) I'm ill enough to fall in the middle of moshpits
Survive and I'm gettin up high without a flaw (*##$!


[Chorus]

[Proof]

I'm a dog on the mic that'll brawl out with Christ
Get to cappin at your captain 'til he fall outta life
I'm all outta nice, ^!$$% tuck your chain

Put holes in your head and finger-$#&@ your brain
Fool $#&@ this game, I'm poppin at coach
Momma dropped me on my head and knew that somethin was broke

I ain't feelin nothin you wrote so I'm stompin your throat
Show up at the hospital and start punchin your folks
I'm a uzi with arms and legs

Duty calm your man, before my tooly bomb his head (WHAT!)
You wanna take what my 40-cal since you (*##$-made
Spittin the right game so yo' $$# can get laid

the $#&@ down, I don't give a $#&@ now, whassup?
Talkin bout "Clappin" - quit actin, you barely bust nuts
Don't get it twisted at the gates, the name is Proof
And I'ma kill every man that came with you


[Bizarre]
Yeah, yeah ? KNOCK KNOCK! Guess who showed up?
44-mag and tear your whole door up
Pink shower cap and, yellow drawers
My dick's so small, I can pee on my own balls (hahaha)

When it comes to #~!!@, Bizarre goes to work
That's why my mouth smell like hot dogs and yellow Persh (eww!)
So tell your momma hit me on my cell phone
I ain't home, I'm so wet gettin stoned with Norah Jones


[Chorus]

[Kuniva]
Yo, I chuck ^!$$%z daily, a six-man crew that's born crazy
A triple O.G. like Tray Deee (whattup Loc?)

I stay sparkin, (*##$ I got a attitude
I step on your shoes and won't say pardon - be cautious!
Hidin from the one-time, nutty as I wanna be
Wild and disorderly, pissin on your toilet seat
^!$$% now you know it's me, I got a .44 wit me
(*##$es all over me, +Sayin Yes+ like Floetry

Homie you wanna be a G? Go toe-to-toe wit me
It ain't no hoe in me dawg, I shoot out where your colons be
Wave the people-mover, crowd-controller
Rob ^!$$%z 'til my pockets look greener than Yoda
And you know that I'm the +Shady+ type, the crazy type
That's probably why promoters never pay me right
We a bunch of hooligans, my hands is on the tool again

I'm bout to bust a Huey and spray up a $#&@in school again

[Chorus]

[Outro: Bizarre]
Yeah.. D-12.
Devil's Night.. part two..

The drama.. continues..
KaySlay.. hahahaha...