[Verse One: Keith Murray]



Haaah! (wooooooo!)

Yeah, (hah, hah, hah, hah) L.O.D.

Keith Murray, Def Squad

Mista, Mista, Mista, Mista Smith

You wanna hit? (You wanna hit?)

Uhh, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad



Yo... I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents

And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet takin a shit

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips wit the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

I represent intellectual violence

And leave your click holier than the Ten Commandments

Like Redman I shift with tha ruck

If ya if was a spliff we'd be all fucked up (Word up!)

No need to ask you who is he, Son I get busy

Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of many ruff cities (Chicago, LA, any of them)

I'll have to Norman Bate ya I love ta hate ya

Cause youse a freak by nature

Can't wait to face ya, mutilate ya

Drink your style down straight wit no chaser (Word up!)

My verbal combat's like a mini-Mac to your back

As soon as one of you niggaz try to over react (BLAOW!)

Tha L.O.D. love good confrontation or vamp (Word up!)

Break your concentration, murder your camp

For tha jealous, overzealous, we fellaz

Blow the the spot like Branford Marsalis

Niggaz comin through and actin wild

Y'all commercial niggaz better have a Coke and a smile

I SHOT YA!



[Verse Two: Prodigy]



Yo, I conversate wit many men, it's time to begin again

Forgot what I already knew, aiyyo you hear me friend?

Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body

Secret society, tryin to keep they eye on me

But I'm stay incogni', in places they can't find me

Make my moves strategically, the G.O.D.

It's sorta similar but iller than a chess player

I use my thinker, it coincides with my blinker

While you wondered what we sayin on the records real

Yeah you motherfuckin right kid you know the deal

My Mobb is Infamous just like the fuckin title read

You get back slapped so hard make ya nose bleed

Some ---- kids feeling guilty bout the ----

But you first baby girl so just face it (awright)

But anyway, back on the real side of things

My niggaz sling cracks and wear fat diamond rings

Not only is it inside the songs that we sing (kid)

Everything is real not just a song that we sing (word up, it's real)

From my life to the paper (what), very accurately

Give you all of my two so maybe you can three

Prodigy will forever will S-H-I-N-E (shine baby, just shine)

My shit attract millions like the moon attract the sea

How dare you ever in your life walk past me

Without acknowledgin this man as G-O-D

I shot ya faggot ass



[Verse Three: Fat Joe]



Now who the fuck you think you talkin to, I pay dues I spray crews

Look I'm Joey Crack, motherfuckers be like he's bad news

Runnin this racket, from New York to Montego

Slaughterin people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico

I'd rather be feared than loved because the fear lasts longer

These bitch ass niggaz know we stronger

Than these weaklings, seekin, for respect that ain't there

Knuckleheads beware, there's mad tension in the air

Tommy guns for fun, shotties for block parties

While fresh lead heats up your insides like a fifth of Bacardi

Call the ambulance, this man's wet

Bullets cut him down from the root up just like a Gillette

razor, which I keep hidden in my oral

Ready to spatter, at any ad out, that wants to quarrel

These feds want me for some tax evasion

Now that the fact that somebody's gettin lucci that's not caucasian

Bullets be blazin through these streets filled with torture (what the deal pop)

Joey Crack, a.k.a. Kaiser Ceaser



[Verse Four: Foxxy Brown]



Thug niggaz give they minks to chinks

To' down we sip drinks rockin minks, flashin rings and things (what the deal)

Frontin hardcore deep inside the Jeep, mackin

Doin my thing fly nigga you a Scarface king

Bitches grab ya ta-ta's, get them niggaz for they chedda

Fuck it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers

Flossin rocks like the size of Fort Knox

Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy bangin like Versace locs pops (what the deal)

Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass cheeks

I'm sexin raw dog without protection, diseaese infested

Uh, Italiano got the Lucciano

I gets down fuckin with Brown Fox extra keys to the drop

Boo I'm Jingling Baby, I got crazy Dominicans who pay me

to lay low, I play slow

Roll with tha Firm, Mafiaso crime king pin

It all real nigga what tha deal

I shot ya!



[Verse Five: LL Cool J]



What the fuck? I thought I conquered the whole world

Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's girl

But still, niggaz want to instigate shit

I'll battle any nigga in tha rap game quick

Name the spot, I make it hot for ya bitches

Female rappers too, I don't give a fuck boo

Word, I'm here to crush all my peers

Rhymes of the month in The Source for twenty years

Niggaz scared, I'm detrimental to your mental state

I use my presedential Rolex to be debate

Niggaz fight, glock cocked ya temple gets fucked

MC's, that fuck with LL they gets bucked

That's real, what's up with that I Shot Ya deal?

Light shit, niggaz slip now how the bullet feel?

New York appeal, in L.A. they gang bang

But if you touch a mic your motherfuckin ass hang

That's facts, niggaz don't recieve no type of slack

Cause if they do, they ass is always runnin back

Not this time, but next time I'ma name names

LL, shittin from on top of the game

I SHOT YA!