[Yeah hehehahaha, we goin platinum nigga! Plaahahatinum.]



Yeah, you got the Live Squad in this motherfucker

We got my nigga Treach from Naughty by Nature in this motherfucker

My nigga Apache up in this motherfucker



Verse One: Tupac



My Mossberg goes boom, gimme room, can I catch it

Talkin quick and then I vic just tryin to keep from gettin blasted

I had enough I put a hit upon them bastards

Boo-yaa! Turned a snitch into a casket

Now they after me, prowling for a niggaz bucks

Time to see, who's the G, with the bigger nuts

Buck buck, big up and livin reckless

Niggaz with a death wish step in with a Tec and I'll wet this

Yeah this shit is hyper

Two to one I'm writing representing and I'm striking like a viper

Huh, I got my mind made up, I got my nine

Ring the alarm, and strong arm must run

Some niggaz need to feel me with a passion

I'm old fashioned, run up on me nigga and get blasted

With five deadly venomz



(Yeah 'Pac, fuck that, still hittin em up with

that old deadly shit. Aiyyo Treach where you at?

Step up and hit they ass up with the wickedness.)



Verse Two: Treach



We come to hit you with a sock full of Brooklyn

to the Onyx of your nose, punk is funky like skunk blunts

Stunk like funk cunt

I come to take you on a war rough and rugged route

And if another doubts I blow your fuckin mother out

And that's the street scarred style

I shout I'm-de-MC-wit-de-nasty-mouf, and kick the bitch out

Sue me? I pay the lawyer for ya oh boy yeah

Plus my style's ten to twenty fuckin pounds more

I take you quicker than a picture of a punk ya pickin shit

pickin pockets with a razor stoppin Russian rockets

Not shoplift, I'm lift