(feat. D Flow, Party Arty)



[Party Arty]

Now what you know about the CLK with fo' doors

Hoes with no drawers, smokin so raw

Coke from Omar, the nigga from "Scarface"

Connects with Sosa, the nigga that killed Tony

Now I throw pies like pizza chefs

We eat your bread, y'all niggaz get beat to death

You wanna see somethin?  Playa watch, we sprayin shots

when haters plot, some been slingin rocks since Mayor Koch

I heard a lot about you

But I don't give a fuck, so I gotta shout you

Party Arty in the truck, but you can't see him

Had to warn 'em, better join 'em if you can't beat 'em

And I'd give anything for my man freedom

Trick and Tone comin home to the fam-bino

And I'm that nigga like my man Nino

So let your crew, your clique, and family know

We get it dirty nigga



[Chorus: D Flow]

We get it rockin, get it happenin, we get it dusty

We get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me

Droppin, 'til it's platinum, 'til it's dusty

We get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me



[D Flow]

We get it flossy, arrogant dog, bossy

Charge three after I slip a mick in your coffee

Get off me, started talkin fast and lost me

Of course we them niggaz, "What What" like N.O.R.E.

I blind hoes, when I step in the club

My chain so bright, I got chicks checkin for bugs

D-Flow lyrically I'm swift with the tongue fo' sho'

Killer you feelin me I'm sick with the gun and yo

It's nuttin new son, bring your crew son

I knew none of these rappers, had it, my flow like magic

Hoes attracted to the kid with the small bling

South Boogie, niggaz got it plus more bling

On the spot a hot 16 that ain't shit

Rock blue and grey all day, and I ain't Crip

My bank sick, dough stack to the sky

And I'ma stay high with a pound in the back of the 5



[Chorus]



[Chorus Two: D Flow]

We get it poppin, we get it crackin, we get it dusty

We get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me

Droppin, 'til it's platinum, 'til it's dusty

Get it crunk son, we get it all that, trust me



[O.C.]

What's my profile?

Demeanor of a chief over this here beat, check the pow-wow

Sirens, reminiscent to violence

Wildlife, with about a hundred niggaz behind us

Get it feelin like it's World War 3 up in this bitch

before the bomb hits nigga

We get it dirty, done deal, guns I reveal

Yo' gun stay concealed, let's leave it at that

Machine gun rap spray off

Layin niggaz six feet, eyes wide from the chaos

Many minds wanna know why they call me Mush

But if I tell ya then I got ta kill ya

See I leave no stones underturned, that's how a lot of niggaz get burned

Man I'm "Deep Cover" like Fishburne

It's my turn, pay-offs is froo froo

Layoffs'll make a nigga turn postal and shoot you



[Chorus + Chorus Two]