[Benzino]

Lord help us, my peoples bein' raped (uh)

Deliver me from evil and I sell his devils faith

Lets take a closer look at what's really happenin'

He wants you to believe that it was all about rappin'

And all I try to do is open up my niggas eyes

It wasn't about me and Em, you gotta realise

It's just a smokescreen, my niggas there's a bigger picture

I want the streets to pay attention cause I'm ridin' with ya

This credibility is what we here for

Then why ain't the hoods sellin' units no more (tell me why)

Labels actin' like it's good so they say so

EPMD was always gold with no radio

Now it's time to turn the prophesy, times up

Marshall Mathers gotta die, rise up

No choise, the only way we gonna turn this shit around

Is put this little bitch in the ground

And this so cald kings, steady going at eachother

Do songs with the devil, while they fightin' with there brothers

Sell a house, fuckin' pitiful, we always just some drama

Let 'em slide through then they devide, conquer

And every plantation got a bunch a house niggas

D12, Shady Records just a bunch of house niggas

Obie Trice, is for security in your front lobby

Better call the secret service, if you gonna stop me (blaah)

Paul Rosenberg, you fat fuckin' pig

I'm holdin you responsable for what this bitch did (kill ya)

Cause you call me up, try to cop or plead

As far as I'm concerned you both gonna bleed (bitch)

Talkin' bout he wanna fight, please

Let's set that shit up quick so I can drop him to his knees

You let a clown clown you, how insane is that

You let em tonguekiss your wife when you had a gat

How you gonna have a gun with no bullets

Oh don't worry cause when I see you I'm gonna pul it (blaah)

You dyed ya hear blond, I'm a make it red

How you gonna sell records Marshall when you dead

Motherfuck make you pay for that bullshit you talkin'

I'm goin' hard in the streets of New York and

Just ask Chuck how we ran 'em outta Boston

He should have been killed left in the coffin

And you better keep my kids out ya fuckin' mouth

Before I put a glock in yo' mutherfuckin' mouth

Tell Haley it ain't safe no more (nah)

Daddy better watch yo' back at the candystore

We Fucked up, resort to plan B

Fuck around she and up like Jon Benet Ramsey (that's right)

Matter of fact you better check the DNA (what)

She probably ain't yours, and where's your wife Kim anyway

She's on her knees somewhere suckin' 50 Cent

I know you wishin' you were there cause you on his dick

You dress in drag, you huggin' up on Elton John

You closet fag, I'm a king you a little punk

You the rap david doer the rap bibler

The coacher stealer, niggas ain't with ya

I'm the rap Hewey, the rap Malcolm, the rap Martin

Don't worry I'm a finish what we started

And everybody who wanna scream Pac's name

You don't make a difference, you in it for the fame

Cause if Pac was livin', he would shoot this bitch alive

But I'm a do it for him, if the hood must survive

You sleep with five O, you walk with the feds

Better keep the lights on, when they tuck you into bed

Cause I'm a get yo' silly ass, find out where you lay

When Debbie set you up you gonna die another day