[Mr. Lawnge]

Yo! This is a crazy shout out to that nigga MC Hammer

We all know he went out and got a new style

So we went out and got him a new asshole, you know what I'm saying?

Cause we making examples out of bitch niggas for '94

Word up, Black Sheep ain't hearing it no more



Now listen Hammer, I could slam ya with grammar you bama

Diss you on camera, but then again goddamn I'd be

Committing a crime and also wasting my time

Yo that shit be worse than trying to battle rhyme a pantomime

You can't say shit but dance and look like a dick

Save it for your hair cause your rhymes ain't slick, bitch

Come on now clown, you ain't down

If we were having sex in a circle, you still couldn't fuck around

You got some shit on your chest, what are you, nuts?

Or could it be that you've been eating too many chicken butts?

You popcorn ass rapper, oh, exqueeze me

You admitted you couldn't rhyme when you dropped the MC

Of your name, I laughed at your fame the minute you came

And now you're like your racehorse, dead last, you're mad lame

But now I got you like Wanda, I rock your world

And have you pulling on my nuts like a fucking squirrel

Begging me please, Lawnge stop tandering

But it's too late, goddamn I can't stand you man

That's why I'm up in your ass like a parasite

For me to battle you, that's like you in the Tyson fight

No wins, you know you have no friends

Because the mic separates the boys from the mens, Hammer

Have arrangements made, man eject respect

I put your name down, fuck card, I pulled your deck

Like Wu-Tang said, you'd best protect your neck

Or get wrecked, and you can bet your endorsement check

So reneg nigga, you'd better repent

And yo you couldn't look hard if Karl Kani gave you cement

Instead of his clothes to rock in your videos

Nigga you couldn't beat your dick as far as beef goes

Hammer, you say you're coming from Oaktown and that's fine

So nigga take your ass back like your hairline

In any battle you don't want to get stuck with me

If I was your bitch you still couldn't fuck me, bitch



[Dres]

No Stanley, no Stanley

I don't give a fuck who you are or who your man be

Huh, I'll snatch your capital without a 357, dig

No class nigga, I'll kick your ass for two bit

What are you stupid, troopid, couldn't be you if this was Balley

Nigga, I'll park you quick and faster than your valet

Hurt me, Stanley? You'd better hope for better days

Chasing my balls like I was the fucking Oakland A's

Nigga quit like your staff or feel the wrath

Your punk ass couldn't bust a bubble in a bath

Huh, I get this right, now you's a racketeer?

But nigga you've been ??? you ain't a mackateer

Ha, ho, no flow, so nigga won't you quit

Shoot heroin on the toilet and still not drop dope shit

Huh, it's all deception, I got your number mister

You bought helicopters for the cops and tried to play my sister

Ass out, your style is about as fly as Piedmont

And yo stop claiming Oakland when you're stroking 'em from Friedmont

In the dictionary under "sellout" that's where you'll be

So roll with Audi for a fucking catastrophe

You teenie weenie wearing geanie to bikini

Couldn't see me if gazelles came in motherfucking 3-D

This is for the Hammer, you bama

I'll bust your ass in Alabama, Savanna, Montana, Havana

Goddamn, my often Lifestyles fuck you

I bust you keep the pistol cause no one would fucking miss you

You suck! I don't give a fuck who does or writes the track

Whoever cameos, it's Hammer, it's all wac