(feat. 50 Cent, Styles P)

[DMX] Grrrr... ARF! ARF!


[50 Cent]
Move on over, I done told ya boyyyy

I'm a G-Unit mother$#&@in soldier boyyyy
And when you gon' get it in your brain
The gate's wide open and the snitchs off the chain


I be that yung'n with that gun-ness, tellin ya stop frontin
I be that yung'n on the run, after I pop some'n

In the Bible I read, death is of the tongue
And if you talk about death enough death is gon' come
Dave taught me how to flow, they shot him in the head

Randy $$# was there, now he runnin scared
Some say I'm gangsta, some say I'm craaazy
If you ask me I'll say I'm what the hood made me

Now I can stunt 'til my $$# dead broke like JD
Or put a hundred grand on e'ry ^!$$% head that play me
See I'm cool with them Haitian mob ^!$$%z

They say sak passe nap boule and rob ^!$$%z
The media be tryin to make a ^!$$% look bad, whassup with that?
See my flick, next to bring Papi and Cat

And Montana, I kill 'em with the grammar
I enhanced in the slammer after bangin them hammers
X whattup? (AIGHT!!)


[Chorus: 50 Cent]
You don't live that, you shouldn't say that

Cause what come out your mouth'll get you SHOT, DOWN
Throwin your money around and we don't play that
Get in our line'll get you SHOT, DOWN (^!$$%)

We know where you hang, we know where you stay at
That bull%#@! you on'll get you SHOT, DOWN
Here's a few clips that you shouldn't play with

G-Unit, Ruff Ryders'll get you SHOT, DOWN

[DMX]

Aiyyo, $#&@ y'all ^!$$%z talkin bout, think you playin wit?
Double R, G UNIT , the same ol' %#@! (WHAT!)
Put the !@$)gots in the ring, watch 'em all quit

All y'all ^!$$%z is #~!!@, suck my dick!
Ain't nuttin but a handful of man still standin
I remember 50 in a cypher when Onyx was "Slammin" (AIGHT?)

Now we meet again, it's all good my ^!$$%
Back to the street again, it's all hood my ^!$$%
Knock on wood my ^!$$%, we both walk the dog

We ain't get to where we at by luck, %#@! was hard (AIGHT?)
But once we got through the trials it's all smiles
'til a big type ^!$$% all of a sudden get wild

Now why you gotsta go and take me back to where I came from?
I'ma make you remember, where you know my name from (YEA!)
45th Street, and BLAOW-BLAOW Ave.

I done ran through your crew and only let off half, ^!$$%!

[Chorus]


[Styles P]
Yeah, word, yeah

If your head ain't offa your shoulders (uh-huh)
You ain't get shot, you got nicked ^!$$% (just nicked)
Cause if my chrome hit a piece of your bone

It's gon' do more than chip, ^!$$% (a lot more than that)
Yea, what the $#&@ is the problem
The Porsche is red the buckets is Army

30 shot handguns the gutter is starvin (yea)
^!$$%z like me might rush your apartment (word)
Bloodstains'll $#&@ up your carpet, brain on the window

I smell murder every time that the wind blow
Tie him to the chair and then knock out his chinbone
I don't want the throne or the crown, I ain't sellin up

You can have the jail or the ground, you ain't in hell enough
I'm the one that flood the gutters
Better tap your man, and let him know P'll love to cut his

And ^!$$%z is gettin shot down, two guns up
Double R, S.P. holdin D Block down