Lyrics
Intro:
Y’all think a nigga playing?
Don’t let me have to lace you up Louder
Turn it up
J Dilla…
Verse 1: Guilty Simpson
Take notice
I’m jumping in the game head first and make the TEC jerk
To cancel your network
You feminine cats catch a bad one
My gun gon' be there poking that ass with Magnums
I spar with the best
Just the first of my litter, come see the scars on my chest
We savage
Ill style with extra static
Before you talk shit, you better know the hearts of the niggas you walk with
This ain’t no slap on the wrist shit, this sick shit
Homicidal energy, something to empty clips with
Negative, gutter
This is what you want, this is what you get
Take it in the brain motherfucker
This ain’t no slap on the wrist shit, this sick shit
Homicidal energy, something to empty clips with
Negative, gutter
This is what you want, this is what you get
Take 'em in the brain motherfucker
Verse 2: J Dilla
It’s the filth, the flawn
The flawn, the filth
The nights with the pimps
The cars
The hard hitters, the giants
Cats preparing for they last days like it’s J2K
But they way too late
Wrap up a piece
Ready to feast
Maybe they’ll save you a plate
We out to take over your radio waves
Nowadays I don’t do it for the mics
Cause they pay for them things
Fucking up letting J in the game
I don’t sleep, I Load the heat and
Wait to aim it and bang
Guilt with Dilla dog
A dangerous game
Yeah, and this ain’t the slap on the wrist shit
This big shit
Feel more energy
Somethin to smack a bitch with
Gully, gutter
Givin' you what you want
Twistin' it up to take it to the head motherfucker
Verse 3: Guilty Simpson
Extended families, my brotherhood
Catch 'em in the face like a heavyweight with no guard
Pardon me as I bogart
Mature monster
I outthink the average, but equally savage
Send the generals of your roster
I send 'em back in a sack
Murder minister counter reacts and launches attacks
Ruthless
Ten branches, ten nooses
Ten necks, ten TECs and ten shooters
Black booters, late night intruders
You ever seen a panther maneuver?
I’m even smoother, guy
You might lose your eye
Either way you choose you die
We cruising high
River rules, July the fourth
Slidin' off and fire the horse
.45 colt, niggas scatter from thunderous lightning bolts
Rewrite your notes and recite them jokes
You like to quote
I ice your throat
After that I’ll slice your throat
With the same razor use to slice the dope
Not by me But I know those types of folks
Now calm down
I never could put the firearm down
That’s why everything I do stresses Mom now
Verse 4: J Dilla & Guilty Simpson
J Dilla:
First name J, Last name Deezy
Here to change the game, playa, please believe me A cake boy 'til my heart stops pumping
Mission complete when y’all niggas mouths stop runnin'
Guilty Simpson:
Last name Simpson, the first name guilty
Taking the game further than most of you niggas will be A dread-narc 'til my heart stops pumpin'
Destined for greatness when these A&R stop frontin'
Motherfuckers