(feat. The Beatnuts, Sin Gutta)



Get into shit...



[Juju:] Uhh, Beatnuts, Chino XL c'mon



[Psycho Les:]

For this collabo' we pack more ammo than Rambo

Beatnuts, Chino for example

"Say Say," like Paul McCartney

I say, we ball in parties

Surprisin you and your guys and while you franchisin

Stuffin your face with french fries and

I sweep up and steal the show with no intention

It's real baby, no make-pretendin (uhh)

I wanna see, every federal dollar (WHAT?)

You playin with my dough?  The metal will hol-la

... Business before pleasure

That's why I keep my workers, under pressure

I went from jumpin on trains with demos

To jumpin on planes to limos

Guzzlin champagne with bimbos, champion style

The way my niggaz pop bottles; finger pop models

We drop top autos, goin full throttle

Escape, c'mon... what?



[Chorus: Chino XL]

Yo, yo, trigger finger don't fail me now

Catch a nigga without his security and lay his ass down

Trigger finger don't fail me now

It's the Latin gangsta shit that make you tuck in your chain and bounce

Trigger finger don't fail me now

Love it or hate it, we get the mamis naked when we come to your town

Trigger finger don't fail me now

Psycho Les, Chino, Juju will knock yo' ass out



[Chino XL:]

Yo... yo, Sin Gutta welcome home baby, this one is for you



The Beatnuts and Chino is like a, first kid for Latins to worship

I hurt shit, the wordsmith, perfect to purchase

I'm merciless, leavin you toothless and verse-less, I'm poisonous (uh-huh)

Drinkin blood from a platinum Thermos, I'm murderous

and evil and diesel, my people from here to Puerto Rico

Chico, the nickname Chino

That's Hispanic as bein married in a yellow ruffled tuxedo

See no Spanish blood I'm standin in

Handlin verbal torpedoes over Spanish mandolins

I'll viciously herb you with verbal calm cool

My name come first in a sentence speakin on who shitted on who

Don't let it be you! (true!)

I'm really rude, hate Italy food, you get Kobe and Philly booed

Never shitty interviewed, every city in the view

seen police nude, police presume from the barbecue blind dude

that I hit his mind up with a .9-Rug', gun blast make your spine move

Paralyze your face, Bell palsy

Have you lookin like Musiq Soulchild, far from hardcore

Line for line I never met a cat who could last

I'm feared like R. Kelly teachin kindergartner's class

Y'all, metaphors are meta-twos, you better get a better set of tools

Cling your genitals, watch your lyrical credentials

I'm an animal, destroy human life without caring

You get killed/kilt, like that plaid skirt Scottish men be wearing

Me disappearing don't even think - the closest thing 

these rappers ever get to art is when their mind's drawin a blank

We revolvin in rank, you smiling coward you spiraling downward

Got you dancin through my firing bullets that showered

Shoot me in the head but, please try to aim

I'll be hotter than these rappers with just piece of a brain

From a wheelchair I'll still be priest of the game

Watch you +Tank+ like that skinny R&B singer's name, what!



[Chorus]



[Sin Gutta:]

Uh-huh... y-y-yeah Sin here baby, let's go, awoo, aiyyo



Aiyyo I'm known for shootin several gats, flip and pitchin several packs

Been to Hell, made it back, twice is shown

With a suntan and Satan's horns

Got charged with statutory for rapin songs, I'm bakin dawg

You even look at me wrong your face is gone

Every time you kiss your girl you tastin Shawn

You think your rhymes break the CD's and tapes they on

When you think a rap is kid, what they based it on?

I'm apes, spit it with grace each tape be wrong

I'm one of the best and you can see that through a brick wall

And the looks and hand skills are reason to hate more

I break laws, you'll prolly tat tears

I'm harder than Fat Joe breathin after walkin up a flight of stairs

You should be scared, boy to reach us for heaters

To say it is needless, and my trigger finger won't fail me

Unlike my 9th grade teachers, dig?