No, Flagro   Uh, what   Yeah, Brand Nu' comin' through   Long Island, Harlem World, all out, all out   Let's talk about tit   What, yeah, now put ya hands up   Uh, what, now put ya hands up   Put ya hands up   Now get ya back up off the wall      I'm better feeling than running raw   Chain gang link I need a shrink   What y'all niggaz think I'm a do when I get real money   Iano keys played in series   Peace to Lil' Cease   Microphone track board, loose chord, oh Lord   Promo number one Sadat X had a grenade   And the have next day I smashed the shit Allie played   Now we delayed by ninety days   You better find me anyways   You better return to the Terror dome, ain't nobody home   Non-haters play the corner in the elevator   Crash crews smack the open palm so you don't bruise   You push a button and what happens nothing   I push one and there's a man with a gun in the doorway   I'm in 4A, I been in there all day   I had some smokes, some bitches and chicken on a slab   There's enough for everybody so y'all niggaz don't grab      Come on, come on, come on, yo   So get your back up off the wall   What, I said dance, come on, come on   So put your hands up   Stop frontin and pop somethin   Cornball niggaz stay frontin ain't got nothin   Mad cause the life I lead, twice ya speed   Brown-skinned Miami, that's the wife I need   Light that weed, front nigga might just bleed   Tryin to ball with y'all but I might just flee      The second coming of Christ   I'll make you run for your life   It's like a gun up against a knife   You can never win, when we fight to the end   I'm tight with the pen   Don't be going off the head, cause they be blown off the head   And showin off the skills of the mentally dead   I do the knowledge before any words get said   Herbs get me red, hold on, Simply Red   Pimps be dead in rap, everybody's fed with that   Y'all could go ahead with that   I'm trying to show you where my head is at   Dread be the positive black   Drop the B, you get lack   See you when you get back   Lyrical three-pack, spiritual miracle   Uhh, Lord Jamar the imperial   Microphone serial killer, urban guerilla   You acting mysterious, we out to take this rap shit serious   Slap the taste out of your mouth, then break out      Come on, come on, come on, yo   So get your back up off the wall   What, I said dance, come on, come on   So put your hands up   Stop frontin and pop somethin   Cornball niggaz stay frontin ain't got nothin   Mad cause the life I lead, twice ya speed   Brown-skinned Miami, that's the wife I need   Light that weed, front nigga might just bleed   Tryin to ball with y'all but I might just flee      Now I'm a put a rush up on molasses   Breeze on through like easy passes   Wiggle more asses than aerobic classes   El kabong, my people blaze them trees up like Cheech and Chong   Get that ass open like a pair of butt cheeks in thong   For sure dog, I don't mean to come off pushy   Blaze your party hot, and have it smelling like D'bussy   Spit my phlegm and drop my gem   Collect my wins and copy the Benz with the icy rims   I be dramatical, mathematical, radical thriller   The mic killa wreckin more shit than Godzilla   Matter of fact I'm more iller, knock your shit off the pillar   The four-wheeler touched every flava but vanilla   You know my name, my game, so shorty shake that thang   I get you open like them ball-head niggaz on Rogaine   Spit my flow all the way from New Ro'   To Acapulco, white poos brown like cocoa   Flip flows def like so so      Come on, come on, come on, yo   So get your back up off the wall   What, I said dance, come on, come on   So put your hands up   Stop frontin and pop somethin   Cornball niggaz stay frontin ain't got nothin   Mad cause the life I lead, twice ya speed   Brown-skinned Miami, that's the wife I need   Light that weed, front nigga might just bleed   Tryin to ball with y'all but I might just flee