(feat. Big Daddy Kane and Kool G Rap)

[Intro: Marley Marl]

Gawd-DAYUM! I don't know what y'all been thinkin bout
But I think this right here is about to shut dem damn haters down!


[Big Daddy Kane:]
I'm from the streets that make ^!$$%z walk slow talk low
With white chalk-o, mi casa be siete uno ocho

Brooklyn mother$#&@er, handle this - pardon my Spanish and French (Brooklyn baby!)
Okay, I stay clever like Mayweather with lay leather
'til your face sever, one of the greatest ever

Beyond ringing bells, my name's so demanding
%#@!! - I got the swagger that'll leave Dakota "Fanning" (That boy still standing!)
I hope you ^!$$%z over standing; I stay sucker-free

The next kaing of in the game, you ain't got enough to be
Your career last a week, that'll be luckily
$#&@ with me, the rap game'll need protective custody

(AHH!) I'm the same thug to be, surrounded with women
Gave the game "True Religion" before you found it in denim
Feel the, "Wrath of Kane, " and you could not escape

The hip-hop version of "The Ring" and you just watched the tape (Next up!)

[Bun B.:]

And keep your eyes on the ^!$$%s in Ward
Triple black in the candy painted car is the color of board
Me or my brother on pall with n'am ^!$$%

We Trill workin the wheel, understand ^!$$%? (UNDERSTAND?)
I smother and split a (*##$ down to the tendon
High pressure, if you don't break your $$# bendin

I'm way past endin in my series of warnin
You flex with me tonight playa you dead by the mornin (Woo!)
Bun Beater the best ever breathin or deceased

From the South to Midwest, Cali to the East
Got to any city ^!$$% and bring my name up (all o'em!)
I bet I eat the best rapper they got in the game up

Call a ^!$$% up, email him or chirp him
Make a meal out his mother$#&@in $$# and then burp him
(DAYUM!) Don't $#&@ around I'm not your lil' homey

I'm the king of the underground so act like you know me (Next up!)

[Kool G. Rap:]

Feel me...
Homie, we big steppin, big reppin
We givin kids Smith & Wesson's lessons, you get left with a sketchin

Left with the Midwest, clique Texans (who dat?)
G. and Daddy Kane, the click Texas, (word) pop you to death
I put private planes on swift Jetsons, ^!$$%z know what it is

When you see the ball cap and a slick Thessons (woo!)
(Aight) Til you strip vexing to a movie clip from the Westerns
%#@! from the Uzi clip lift up your midsection (Tell em G. Rap)

He will introduce you to the nose on the Glock fam
Give you metal jackets like clothes from a rock band (rock band!)
Multiple holes, you get those on your top, man (AOOOW!)

High roller dose some hoes on the @@#! plan
Froze but never coldly rolls with a hot hand
We stackin cheese til the rubberbands pop scrams

And I ain't breakdancin when I'm in the pop stance
Bank pounds like James Brown give 'em "Hot Pants" (Next up!)


[Pimp C:]
I make your girl get down and open it up
Put my dick up in they jaws and go in they butt

I'm a young hot street flame (Flame)
They call me Sweet James, or call me Sir Jones
Two hundred dollar cologne

(Uh!) Board Nine, or Issey Miyaki
I got your girl mine, meat strong like saki
I ain't Rocky but I keep her rockin

$#&@ around I'll knock your tuna fish out of socket
Your (*##$ out of pocket, she under pimpery
She reckless eyeballin watchin my top fall in

On my Lambourghini with the quick scream
Fettucini, linguini, shrimp and a bowl of lean!
What you know about gettin cross country

^!$$% your piece big but your diamond look monkey
You need to take that %#@! back
That ain't no emmy diamonds what the $#&@ you done to that...
(*##$ what the $#&@ you done to that? !


[Outro: Marley Marl]
Now, damn somebody need to beat Jacob's $$# over that!