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 Verse One: Red Hot Lover Lover Tone
 The pen hits the paper  ink spills and fills  the lines
 With lyrics that thrills like my dillz
 Take it on the Grilled Cheese tour  then I drop it
 Don't care about the niggaz cause the girls are gonna jock it
 Take her to my hotel  no speaking  just freaking
 Leave my door open so the niggaz can come peak in
 Rip the nappy dug out niggaz bug out with the hopes
 they can get theirs, but in the meantime they takin notes
 Here comes my kid, here comes my kid (ahhhhh)
 But I caught him in the rubber lid, huh
 Chitty chitty bang bang, gotta go gotta go
 The hoe is in a coma so I tippy tippy toe
 Walkin in the dark (tripped) slipped on my shoe
 (Arrrrgh!! Ohh shit!!) [Tone is that you?]
 Damn, more fornication
 Puba take the mic cuz I'm here for the duration
 Verse Two: Grand Puba
 Before I get this wreck I usually start with a 40
 But forties are no more cuz now I'm drinkin 64's
 Call on Grand Puba, Chubb Rock if you want it done
 Hon spread the 411 as if her name was Kaity Chung
 Into devil bashing, always stay in fashion
 Love maxing and relaxing, hittin skins with a passion
 As a shorty I kept some dice I banked on seven or eleven
 Cuz my pops had it hard similar to James Evans
 Now shit flipped, I'm on the hip-hop
 To the beat you don't stop, rock on!
 I kick the new type of lingo, hit the spot that'll tingle
 Make the girls wanna jingle, so they run and get the single
 My simple task is to make you shake that ass
 on the quick fast, and to make it last
 It's just three men at Chung King getting busy
 We've come a long way since Kunta Kintizzy
 and you don't stop, rock on
 Chubb Rock flip the script cuz I'm gone
 Verse Three: Chubb Rock
 Yippi-yi-yeah, stay, hooray, yo, hurrah
 I jumped up upon the mic with the Chubbster, Tone, plus the Pu-ba
 Intricately go far
 Chillin in the mansion, nuff fashion (ahhh)
 Relax, and dig into the track and react
 I want a Martin Luther riff cuz I don't like to pack my iron
 Watchin kids on the corner buyin, gettin zooted then lyin
 Test and I commence, to firing
 One two three shots and then I tune the black watch
 Reclean my cylinder and then I grab my crotch
 and squeeze, the testes and then I grab my wood and cup it
 Oh there goes the nut I just busted
 Get myself together, cuz I'm the man
 I knew it, I wanted to do a duet with the Grand
 Mystic ruler took the 40 out of the cooler
 Now we're rippin the track, we shoulda did one sooner
 And then we roll up on the groove field assist the team
 And now I'm straighter than 9:15
 Get a little dough for this three man skit
 I'll end the jam with a curse
 Uhh, umm fuck?
 Or is it damn? Or what?
 SHIT. And slide out of the vocal booth and get a dollar Chung King
 soda
 Grand Puba, Tone, plus now we're over and we're out