(feat. Inspectah Deck, King Just)



[Chorus: Inspectah Deck]

Do you really want it, do you really?

(House Gang on the chow)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Get ya plates out, we 'bout to eat now)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(First in line, the fugitive)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Carlton Fisk, geeee!)



[Carlton Fisk:]

House Gang on the chow, last warning

Cuffs and ID's, now we walkin' out

New York City, I'm a animal, stalkin' about

Fuck around with the fuck around, blood in ya mouth

And I rep for them green haven, cats who smuggle grams

Bubble in the yard with they fam

The type to send money home on the pink slip, whenever they can

You the type to turn day in the can, bitch the wave of my hand

Have you runnin' with your face in your hand

Threw the mess hall, as fast as you can

Mothafucka, Carlton Fisk, Karl Malone when I'm settin' the shit

Donnie Cash, Jason Kidd, when he on the assist

And we Loose Linx, House Gang, who's fuckin' with this?



[Chorus:]

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Yeah, we in the yards)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Gangstas shoot time, our own weight like workin' ants)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Eyo, I'm 'bout to send this kite out to my nigga King Just)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Eyo Just, hold me down baby)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Yo, come on!)



[King Just:]

I do what it takes to carry the whole weight

Ya'll the crumbs on the table, while we the fuckin' whole cake

Battle ya whole state, off of one dub plate

I.N.S. we goin' platinum, off of one mixtape

Get ya shit straight, before you be floatin' the cold plate

The big fish eat the small bait

The sharp knife cut the dull steak

The seven wonders of the world, and King J is the eighth

Stay in ya place, and bout face

I ain't gon' loose the race, steady pace

I'm a carpenter rapper, I keep hammers on my waist

Drink Remy by the case, and smoke trees that's laced

I get that ass robbed without the base

Make you leave the game alone like you Pastor Mase

We the All Madden greats, we the planet of the apes

We the reasons why DJ's gotta dig in they crates

For given sake, hit it, only take one tape

As if I'm down on my last, we gon' cook back the shake

And double back to an eighth, I cause trouble for my papes

In the food fight you couldn't bust a grape

This goes out to the late, and the ones that can relate

Welcome to Park Hill, home of the fire escapes



[Chorus:]

Do you really want it, do you really?

(10304, all that war)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(We got the ninth floor on lock right now)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Come see us, House Gang, yeah)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Sendin' the kite out to my nigga D.C.)

Do you really want it, do you really?

(Yo Donnie, meet me on the gate son)



[Donnie Cash:]

The Animal handles business on the zone

Call for knowin', like I got no minutes on the phone

All I need is the spinnach and the chrome

A couple of clips, couple of whips, got me spinnin' on the chrome

Catch a vick, run up in a nigga home

Clap up his chick, wrap up the bricks, then I empty in the dome

You's a bitch, I can sense it in your tone

Your bitch is a whore, and I'm a dog, wanna tempt me with a bone

But the only thing I'm meant to is a dome

I'm usin' a moose cat to booth cracks, then I send her home

Court dates, face sentencing alone

And never did I tell with the jail, did the bidding on my own

Since 12, I've been livin' on my own

From D.C., originally, never needed ya'll is written on my bones

Like, ain't nobody kiddin' when you grown

And don't respect your visions 'till you show em, then they miss you when your gone

My life is like a scripture in a poem, if not in the cell

Then where I dwell is like a prison of it's own

You can tell, I'm bout to into to a zone

The sum is 'bout as high as I'mma get, still twistin' up a bone