ever fuck with the seventh bitch (Intro: Ras Kass) Yeah, seventh, uh-huh, first things first man you're messin' with the worst One, come on, come on,
sleep never keep your eyelids clipped hold me for the pops and clicks I was only for the father's crib hair, old, long along your neck onto your shoulder blades
you gon do it remember that ?track? we started on? You, you, you go ahead and put that on there. Sez you wanna do a damn mixtape.. you put that on there
mind When I come back, like nut on your spine I'm a thumb tack that you slept on, son Now here I come screaming attack like I just stepped on one Low on
only mail And I'm the God sippin' syrup out the Holy Grail Oh well And you ain't on shit, nigga you ain't on shit Its Young Mula baby lose ya mind on
drugs, NIGGA BLACK! (OH!) The best to do it we only deal with the facts bitch Blazin that I'm so amazin on the tracks BITCH! (BOUNCE ON 'EM!) And I jump
emceein' even after you're gone Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow The 80's, the 90's, 2000's, and so On and on until the crack of dawn
call him flame out on the water Think I'll call him shore between the sea Drop him on the rocks and he will shatter Cut him with a blade and he will
Well, we could try to reason But you might think it's treason One voice for all Echoing along the hall Don't give up on father clock We can talk about it now Come
house, Jigga! Yeah Crist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga Hold up love Every time you see Jigga man I'm rollin' on dubs Don't forget about them blades
balls then come on, mette mano (We stand for the neighborhood) If you got cojones, come on, mette mano (We stand for the neighborhood) If you got the balls then come on
's gone Blow into this paper bag Take your armor off, you're not under attack Take your armor off, you're not under attack Come on, come on Blow into
'll write a horror Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an Acura Stevie Wonder sees Crack Babies Becoming Enemies of their own families What's going on? Armageddon come
you can, well, come on man I was a Green Beret in Vietnam I said, no more of your fairy stories 'Cause I got my other worries 53rd and 3rd, standin' on
, it's coming all back to me, 1983 I've got something that I've kept inside And the blood is on the blade You're there sucking on a lollipop Like you
Daddy ain't said must of started smokin' rocks We got game on loud bitch you ain't proud Smoke private stock-got blades chopped Keep ah young yell bop and ah pistol tah pop On
you're breakin' me down, just like a chop shop Cuttin' like some blades on a caddy That's how you're workin' me, daddy Every time you put that on, oh
top spot When you're breaking me down like a chop shop, eh Cutting like some blades on a caddy That's how you're working me, daddy Everytime you put that on