(feat. Alkaholiks, MC Breeze, Xzibit)



[Verse One: Xzibit]



(See look look)

I grab the mic and start breakin down niggas

wit out no problem

broadcastin live from the bottom/aint no mic checkin worse/

kick some rhymes if you got/but if it's wack

I draw back the cap for the peelin

should of stuck to rock dealin

cuz it's the blood stealin/super vill..

chill..stayin high like the ceilin

see there aint enough room for the both of us

see it's a showdown/throw down

your best style I'll bust

(yo)I write rhymes that make niggas throw they sets up

couldn't hold my style if you had a pair of handcuffs

In all disrespect

I'll snatch you by your neck

and do a suplex and step

so nigga you can check my credentials

just hard rhymes and instrumentals

Xzhibit smash you wit a dental

and a loaded pistol

no longer lookin in the window

I'll bust a field wit indo

killin quarts of beer

Sadie's outta here...



[Verse Two: MC Breeze]



Like a fuze/start spreadin the news

its 94 and Breeze is givin niggas the blues

I paid my dues/and now it's time to go on to the next mode

make room for the kaboom/cuz I'm about to explode

and drop bombs like a B1/cops I seize none

and niggas step up/I soak emcseason

3 seconds to detinate/you betta evacuate

no time to hesitate/you fuckin featherweight

I aint the type to pic up the mic

and catch the stage fright

I'll pull a gauge if I aint paid right

to the promoters on tour

short me a buck and a buckshot and the barrel is yours!

I'm psycho pathic like Manson

aint wit the dancin

but still I get more Cheers than Ted Danson

more dough than Marino or roles than Pacino

you beatin me? that's only in your dreams ho

I'm not sayin I'm unbeatable/I'm sayin I'm untouchable

livin comfortable just like a Huxtable

plus I'm rollin wit the cross roads

movin fast foward/while you other suckas

stuck in a pause mode

I goes deep like a great white

but I'm a stay black

no matter how high the pay stacks

or if my rep gets bigger

you might get take this nigga out the ghetto

but not the ghetto out this nigga.....



[Verse Three: J-Ro, Tash]



For the balls basketballs

microphones gassin grass(hey)

some of the few things J-Ro likes to pass

93 mandingo/94 I'm the pharoah

cuz I'm b-bbad to the bone marrow

I get wild

wit more styles than the martial arts

I need weed

I roll more grass than golf carts

April 92 you no the Ro was a looter

now I'm writin raps on my lab-top computer

J-Ro the tittie fiend/rap dean/wearin green

been on the scene/since the age of 13

I learned I had to earn the mic

now's my turn

I got Furious Styles like Larry Fishburne...



Wit da bitches tunin me in

like it's the Young and the Restless

next up to bust my shit

from the L-I-K-S's

yes it's the freshest

wit lyrics rough around the edges

I'll smoke you on the mic

like a pack of Benson Hedges

But..hold up wait

I'll bust rhymes that'll circulate

that'll wake yo punk ass up like MC Eiht

cuz I be rockin rhymes 

since the roof was on fire

so point me to the bitch who's the dopest butterflyer

I'll make her break it down like she Patra when I catch ya

Broadway is on the tables 

while I throw these lyrica atcha

so....slow down before ya fuck wit my sound

you betta do the hokey pokey

and turn ya self around..