Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit shit Yeah, We got my nigga Fiend in the house C-Murder in this motherfucker Mystikal all up in this bitch Goldie Loc, My nephew Silkk the Shocker Oh yeah, we got something for the ladies too Mia X, run this bitch Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler I'm Mother, of the Tank, gave birth to an army Guerrilla millionaires, so don't even ask, if you wanna Get to clapping, soldier action specialty of style We made the whole world respect the underground while Some of y'all niggas talk shit and get mad Cause we did it with a foot up your ass, and it's still there I cares not about your click or the block I'm still that same bitch to run up in your spot and knock you off Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin Missing the game, damn bitch it's written in plain ebonics So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge Mia X, kicking off the ghetto symphony Next soldier up, tell em who the FUCK you be What? It's Fiend y'all Put me in the ring with real MC's, and watch em run for cover And hiding in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on Bleed on, exceed on! Weak rappers with titles after twelve Hit a bell that's what I'll feed on! Microphone Don, walking flesh, talking bomb Bringing harm, to the calm, and, them be alarmed It's the African, oh, you wanna battle again? I'll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans Oh damn, toting two pistols like Yosemite Sam Old man be grand, loud as the Southern band Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can I would be the man, but God beat me to them plans Next up, on the M-I-C C-Murder, get busy for the symphony I be's that nigga on the tank, always tripping never slipping Have you reminiscing and missing, that fool in your picture Call me Bossalinie bitch without the Mo's at shows And fuck dose who oppose (why?) we running them hoes Three-hundred and sixty-five motherfucking days a year I have your fool staggering just like a bottle of beer You niggaz running from the cops, well I ain't running no mo' I flip the bird when I swerve, man, FUCK them hoes I'm crazy my nagga, but uh, I thought y'all knew that, shit Oh you ain't see the news? Shit I'm the nigga with the true tat Ask my nigga Keno, shit, I just don't give a fuck And if you run up wrong, I'ma fuck you up, you bitch you Next up, on the M-I-C Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony Now would I COME THIS FAR FUCKER? If I didn't sound like a hit Y'all didn't know what the fuck y'all thinking bout You sound like a bitch (bitch!) Shit it sound like a wish, you know when you got a motherfucking hit, Bitch?? When it sound like this! Or you fake niggas get enough heart, and try to bust a Rhyme at this click Fuck around and miss, then fuck around and get Found in a ditch Gotta labels give me dough, when they find I can, gross this much Freestyle shit, you can tell em I ain't, wrote this stuff Silkk the Shocker, KLC perv and mash like, Snoop and Dre nigga Y'all can relate to what it takes to get a contract like, MJ nigga It ain't where you from; it's where the, fuck you at N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I'm fucking with that Next up, on the M-I-C Mystikal get busy on the symphony Who shit motherfucker god damn! I keep it hype, bitch I'm the man! When the FUCK you ever heard somebody say that they don't say my song Or that I don't roll on every fuckin verse I'm rapping on (That nigga Mystikal tighter than a motherfucker) I came up off of _Peter Piper_ bells and the LL's _Bad_ Nee nigga to be pissed off with me Cause their old lady they call me their baby MC's piling up and crowding up, but I'm their FAVORITE The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC And chop you in your motherfucking face Your album ain't tight, what in the fuck is you pushing? You played out just like old woman pussy Next up, on the M-I-C Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony Now watch me put these haters to the test, accumulating with my stress Fold em fuck em fifty, get the shit up off my chest Releasing anger, all natural gangsta energy Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House game Motherfuckers better start backing up (what up what up) We in the Tank punk busters, motherfuckers don't wanna see us loc'd up Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thing Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gang-bang Last up, I believe that's me Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics That thought I wasn't coming, out with some exquisite, rhymes But that's OK, cause now I'm back To kill all the rumors, and straighten the facts Like umm, doing bad, getting ganked for my bank Now you all on my dick when you see I'm true Tank Dogg You say, "Mmmm mmm mmm! Ain't that something Dogg I bought yo' album, my nigga, that shit is bumping I apologize, I'm sorry for the drama Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?" Shit I'm setting it off, letting it off, busting Hustling, rushing, dusting motherfuckers Dropping the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do? Top of the line, first class I pop a cap in yo' ass, then pop some more in the glass Too legit to quit, I'm spitting gangsta shit Man fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clapping No Limit, yeah, that's what's happening Fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clapping Yeah In the real world, talk is cheap Actions speak louder than words No Limit Records, here to protect and serve
Written by: CORDOZAR CALVIN BROADUS, ALVERTIS ISBELL, ALLEN ALVOID JR. JONES, RICHARD ANTHONY JR. JONES, COREY MILLER, VYSHONN KING MILLER, OTIS REDDING, KEIWAN DASHAWN SPILLMAN, MICHAEL L. TYLER, MIA YOUNG
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Roba Music, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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