Aiyyo these niggaz is crazy baby They can't fuck with the Dog (Ya know) Yo swizz, swizz (My nigga) Swizz, swizz, swizz Another one? (Swizz) Another one? (Another one?) Are we bein' greedy or what? I don't think so C'mon baby, like you don't know these streets is, that bad They'll find yo' body but in pieces 'Cause the beast is on some real cruddy shit About to split yo' wig with some bloody shit I ain't droppin' nuttin' but that ugly shit (C'mon) Bite yo hand like I tried yo man 'cause what you sayin' is nuttin' Must really think I'm playin' but I'll be layin' while you bluffin' Look out, they done let that crook out, and I took out Enough of yo' family, to have a fuckin' cookout But what kind of get-together, is it when everyone get hit together Or when I'm in the chair, just before they hit the leather (C'mon) I'ma say it, 'til I know, how much strength is left And curse all who will breathe in the stench of death Though on the sixth day after I'm buried I will rise Enbalmin' fluid in my veins and blood, in my eyes And them guys that was laughin' don't even smile anymore How many four-pound rounds can yo' ass endure? Twenty more, of that raw, stripped to the flesh (What) A thousand pounds of pressure Shit that rip through the vest and pull yo' chest But what's a Ruff Ryder supposed to do, when you frontin'? Give you niggaz what you wantin', muh'fucker, nuttin' © EMI APRIL MUSIC INC.; UNIVERSAL MUSIC CORP.; SWIZZ BEATZ PUBLISHING; BOOMER X PUBLISHING; BRIDGEPORT MUSIC INC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com