Yo Fuck that!
 Word to mother yo
 Who you runnin' with? AFFICIAL NAST! Fuck that!
 Who you runnin' with? AFFICIAL NAST!

 [Fredro Starr]

 Yo  I'm goin' straight for ya head to leave you headless
 Eyez are redness  I spray rap cats  to burn a lack tips
 Point like rain  I take aim  blow ya brain out the frame
 Eight shots'll touch ya  spit ya physical structure
 MUTHAFUCKA this is lyrical destructure!
 Path from disaster, face Nast comin' at ya
 Full blast, I catch ya fragile ass, breath like ya astma
 Couldn't kill less, you approach your near death
 My hollow tips, rip a kid that's politic, with da villains
 The devil himself, a rebel in himself, trapped in America
 Assassinate ya charachter, slaughter ya
 Twenty more holes in ya (norica?), FUCK ALL OF YA!
 What?! Bringin' MC's, YEAH, callin' ya
 Livin' like a nigga with six months to live
 On da edge of life, wouldn't think twice, to make a SACRIFICE!
 To a hoist, ya niggaz ain't drew to life, my whole crew is trife!
 So bring ya wildest nigga rappin' for ya team
 See his ass who was clean, this is Suicide Queens
 Where gats bust, cut rope, cross Callahtaru
 Gather shatter you, feel the pain, son imaginable
 Self shit, straight from the hood, the dirty black shit
 Rap shit, get ya back ripped, plus the gat spit
 Blown in the cockred bag, or 32 tracks
 Murder you in raps, let my wild dogs bust the CATS!
 Styles leave the best dead, I stay breast-fed
 And when I die, be handcuffed til my deadbag

 [Chorus] *Sample from "Rampage"*


 [Sticky Fingaz]

 Sticky Fingaz sneak up, when you least expect it
 I never fuck pussy, that seed's infected
 Fuck a brain frie, make me think he rational
 If I even think you sceamin', YOU KNOW I'MA BLAST YOU
 I'm too raw, what issue out your gore? I cut through any challenger
 Or top macho immature, you'd rather be in the Projects
 But an ass, where's a hundred G's cash
 You know gun, in the fuck with Sticky, Fredro 'n Son
 You lookin' at one desperate nigga, you shouldn't've messed with
 I had a doctor scared, movin' (----)(?)
 'Memba when I test it, this nigga manhood
 To see if he was a true nigga, so I pulled out my gun
 Gave some dramatic asspiece, and pulled the trigger
 Haha! Barrel empty, joke on New Jack
 He cold, pissed his pants, pulled his cover, he in New Jack
 You know where I'm comin' from, most of my niggaz pump 'n jump
 And when it's time to dump and run, I never jump the gun
 Or get cold feet, I hold heat, ya niggaz don't know me
 And six hours are made of four years
 Got high shit for your ears, sorry somethin' that I never felt yo
 Fingatips made 'em fell chrome, you talkin' shit like it's a little game
 That's now how we get down, 'beef' is my middlename
 So don't die over nonsense, I ain't got no conscious
 Come out ya face you gettin' shot, everything was spittin' hot
 I need fame without the bread, like I need a hole in the head
 And insult the injury, you can't fuck with me, guess that's not ya capuchi
 I'm every star me, if you haul what you eat, fuck the rookies rejects
 Play close and detects, I had a hard life, grew up too quik
 But kept it tight with my true clique, I start in a new flip
 Fuck you're frontin' for? I seen back, what you tell between your leg
 Afficial Nast in da house to meet 'em dead!

 [Chorus]

 [Sonsee]

 You takin' a RIDE, in da ambulance
 You catch mad damages, cock the hammer shit
 Leave you Los like Angeles, You ain't brick, my stock-o
 But paper my shit, whatever you got, to take in da way
 YOU'RE BAKIN' TODAY, trust that, it's time to crush cats
 When I bust raps, I rust tracks and oft act, BUCKWILD!
 Army comin' through, hear nigga, DRUNK STYLE!
 FUCK YOU! FUCK THE JUDGE! FUCK TRIAL!
 I'm givin' nigga shatter ego's, I keep fools
 On pet bet face more threat, MAKE 'EM EAT THOSE!
 Leave goals my death, sleep ho's get wet
 If that ain't enough, we come through and hold ya shit
 Hit you with da FIREWORKS, you see the stars BLINKIN'
 I really BANG THEM and prepare you for God's ANGELS
 It's not a humble, but some shit you can't come through
 Nigga try to blow he gotta go, and now you know
 He's fearin', from the fearious, irious, dead serious, high styrious
 Feelin' ya, interior, wait nervousness for ya services
 WE CUTTIN' OFF YOUR CIRCULATION, AND DEAD IN YA PURPOSES!
 We them niggaz you can't FUCK with, friend will shine


 All mics I slang (--), change your mind
 Of those thinkin' they playin' theirself, NEXT is ACTION
 Ya stole, you muthafuckaz gettin' CHROME!

 [Chorus