Lyrics:
comin' like I'm 2
Or maybe 3 or 4 or just a muthafuckin' crew
Late night see a drive-by drop Impala
The niggas took cover and the bitches all holla
If
shit popper
Spark my trees and wake the whole house
Like it's a pot of Folgers
Movin' like and army platoon, lots of soldiers
M-16's aimed above yo
Mr X's biggest mistake was messing with us, if you ask DJ Khalid (hah) "we the best!"
I guess some introductions are at hand, my name is Eddie but
and Star baby pah
Def Squad be the best by far
I rock New York then Motown like
Yup, my name rings bells, bells
This year I'm confident so yo homes watch
up
Hehehe, yeah, yo
DJ Pooh, he drink wit us
Ice-T, he drink wit us
Busta Rhymes, he drink wit us
De La Soul, they drink wit us
Tribe Called
keep me clean like the detergent bitch
Stop acting like you did it by yourself
The team is earnin it
Win or lose just focus on the grind
Time to learn
drive by's, homicides and shooting up niggas cars
What's the point of being a street nigga kicking with the stars
Though the niggas that you really loved
Through the violence roll
It's exploited by the wicked for business
They don't care and the music
I witnessed on how they rather abuse it.
So, Yo
We used
breaking their neck
Yo we play to win
Such a shame, shit is a sin
So hot baby body heat bubble your skin
Every time I flow speak
I caress the whole
about the game, this shit gon' speak up for itself
They try to hold yo fate, but I get ended by myself
I said forget about my ways
I put it on display
can't speak it
Can't spell it, yo, it's buggin' me out
Somebody doin' somethin' wrong to
Somebody I know somehow it's related to me
And now I'm frustrated
Yo, this is DJ Quik
Takin' a second out with Tha Dogg
Pound to let y'all know somethin'
If you're lookin' in the Source
Mag and don't see me
It's
yo bitch she got me
On the flo’ she top me with the sloppy toppy
Finna treat ‘em like I’m off the Molly
When I’m sending licks without a fucking loli’
keep on sayin
That this shit is to the death and imma eat yo brains
Im running wit some cons and i roll with loccs
Got family from the bronx
Ninja
Yo yo yo Yo-landi Visser
Jack Parow
DJ-Hitek
Die fokken Antwoord
Wat pomp julle?
Wat pomp julle?
Wat pomp, wat pomp
Wat pomp julle?
Wat pomp
A starving artist regarded as one to get yo face hit
Don't fuck with that fake shit
Made by the hands of greatness
I creep up on ya put you on a shirt and make
better proach me like a boss
When u speak to me (Oi!)
I'm yo big homie's big homie,
But I never treat'em like he under me
My niggas next to me
Shoulder
the wall you better stand tight
Full of X, AK's, whilin' in lobbys, bulletproof PJ's
Fuck around and get spunned like the DJ
Csi traumatized by viewing
about they cockin' back, bustin' guns
Knowin' damn well heat is on deck, you cowards run
Hated by many, yo we loved by few
You ain't gotta like us homie
Yo introducing the improvement of a natural act
You hear this beat drop and watch it move the front to the back
And it's actually time to react
any DJ,yo Fuck Dat! (Any DJ nigga! Afficial Nast!)
Word up, Fuck Dat! Niggaz don't know! My muthafuckin' broher is sayin', Fuck Dat!
Big Chris, Fuck
Yo dj hi-tek
Drop the motherfuckin' beat box dog
Bring that next-level shit
Uh, yo, for real
That's what I'm talking about
Check it out
this shit is not a hobby
Why is it the credit that they always try to rob me
It's R.I.P. Dolph, when the fuck they gettin' Gotti
If I up a stick, nigga
because you're wanted
But for now, yo, I guess I gotta speak upon it
We've got to come together
Pool our efforts, our strength, our finance
And build
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