(feat. Lil' Flip) 



[Lil' Flip:] 

I know you like the way I murder the track 

But I still be in the hood with a bird of that crack 

In the burgundy 'llac with, peanut butter guts 

The fiends run up to my truck for them peanut butter cups 

Yeah, I pack tools like a handyman 

Without a ice cream truck I'm still a _Candyman_ 

Yeah, just say my name five times in the mirror 

And I'ma show yo' ass the true meanin of terror 

Yeah, we cut your lights out, bring the metal pipes out 

Memorial weekend, we bring the bikes out 

The drop vipes out (vroom), the white Nikes out 

The black strippers, plus the white dykes out 

We call 'em kissin cousins, yeah kiss your cousin 

Ain't it a shame these hoes lick dick and kiss they husband 

Now that's foul play, and baby girl 

I gotta check yo' ID, I ain't Mike, no child's play 

I do the shit that cain't be done 

Lil' Flip and Zab Judah, we the champions nigga 

October 2nd we gon' teach y'all a lesson (bitch) 

I bet you can't go around with the Smith & Wesson 

Bitch! The champ is here 

(Hot damn man fuck with your folk man) 

(Stat Quo came down there boy) 

(On this motherfuckin Da Bottom Part 2 for you bitch-ass niggaz, you understand me?)