Lyrics:

(feat. Rock, Ruste Juxx)



[Sean Price]

My son got a gun, I say shoot, that's where the gat'll spray

Make these faggot niggaz go that a way, run

Your fab five is jumping, big knives, guns, bats and sticks

Fuck all that rapping shit

Give a fuck about your bar with the verse, put pa in a hearse

Best bet is throw your car in reverse

You can act up if you want, clapped up in ya front

Pull ya chest and ya back, skit left hooded laugh

Y'all niggaz do the row when I rhyme

Matter fact use a gun when I rhyme, yo

I throw shots from the back of the rover

Chickenwing Bob Backlund, that tag on your sofa

Niggaz actin' like they don't know Sean, til I

Run up on 'em, smack 'em up with the fo'fo nam

Focus the fire, throw shots, hopin' you die smokin'

Alot after the toast is retired, motherfucker



[Rustee Juxx]

Yo, fucking with Juxx, you already know what crime it is

Hard body beat breaking, that's what kinda rhyme it is

Kingston Ave., you already know who grind it is

Black beretta, special opt, that's what kinda nine it is

Body the wax, first I grab 'em by the neck

Then I throw the sawed shotty to back

Cold blooded, black hearted, swing the mac retarded

My weed clientele, excel my crack market

Shawshank swangeler, monster track mangler

Wild cowboy, two hosters on my wrangler's

Barbarian, I'm a savage, street viking

Bullet street striking, faster than grease lightning

Spit volcano, rain, hail, fire

Cuz misery sell millions, and pain sell hater

Fiend for the foam, my throne is indestructable

Niggaz like 'word, son, them niggaz cant fuck with

you'



[Rock]

Aiyo, I shake the ground when I walk

I mean I shake the town when I walk

Flip pound and lay you down for your thoughts

Lay you on the ground with your thoughts

Have your thoughts all over the ground in the park

Make a sound when I talk

Shhhh, it is the greatest, underrated MC

Niggaz hate but don't say it to me

They get chased in a tree

The moves you make in the piece

Ready to get Jason to be like - damn

keep these niggaz away from the grease, please

Bad news, gun click; you die, yo

You want good news, switch to Geico

A nigga fight me gettin his eye closed

And his shine stole, not you pa, your shit rhinestones

Think I don't know huh? Your jewelry corny

It's cornier than cream corn and your team corny

Ya whole fleet boring, born with a heat seaking pistol

Locked on nigga jaw piece

For talking that 'I can give and talk and see'

Boy something like a phenomenon

That's why, some shit's like a feel arm my strong

It's like the 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous'

Bitch, they get used to rhyme and stunt, they wanna give it the anus

And bring it down, now, wow, how bout

Fuck it, let 'em chow down on dick with sauerkraut

Whyle out, have it come to the heaters, down South

Roundhouse, any bitch, you get caught in the Brown Brown

Brownsville!