{*scratched: "What? You wanna battle ME?"*}

{*scratched: "Yo man, how much money you got?"*}

{*scratched: "What? You wanna battle ME?"*}

{*scratched: "Yo man, how much money you got?"*}



[Guru]

I used to guzzle 40's, and own a beat up Caddy

Since the hood still love me, I'll turn the heat up daddy

I went from mackin fly honies on the train

to straight relaxin on the beach, countin money gettin brain

Soon as you rappers get a chance you wanna floss a lot

You buy a iced out watch because it cost a lot

Then you in the club, stylin with dough

Profilin with hoes that we boned, a while ago

You rookies haven't done enough laps around the track

You had one hot single, but then your album sounds wack

Son you bore me with your war stories

You ain't even do that shit, so that's just more stories

How you expect us to take you seriously?

The look in my eye punk, has got you scared of me

I'm blastin your sons, I'm snatchin your funds

You catch a royal ass-whoopin, you've been askin for one



{*scratched: "I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game"*}

"What.. what?" {*scratch: "We thorough to the end"*}

"Yo man.." "You know the drill"

{*scratched: "I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game"*}

"What.. what?" {*scratch: "You wanna battle me?"*}

"Yo man.." "How much money you got?"



[Guru]

Bitch you don't even know, the half about me

I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me







I'm just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser

I might advise ya, or I might pulverize ya

I can visit any city, get respect in the street

While you alone in your room, shook to death of the streets

I'll take a second to speak, I keep my weapon