Lyrics:

Microphone check (what), check one Microphone check (what), check two Microphone check (what), check three Microphone check (huh), check four What chall niggas wanna do, how yall wanna do it? Huh, check one Kick this shit raw Ghetto fabulous (5X) That's the rapper (8X) Turn your hands towards your ass and say bye bye From the southside, southside, puff, ya ya ya Nothin but the fiya ya Eardrums snatchin champion cheap rhyme busters till the day I die I say I lie Bitch I'll be fuckin on your grave singin ay la ba I throw em off, I'm two scoops for coo coo I swoosh through your froot loops, poo poo in your fubu Yall niggas remember what happened to that mosquito Tweeter tweeter MC, the sweeter I be ja meaner Stop your water turn off your gas cut off your lights Move you out, cut your grass, watch your kids, fuck your wife Like a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich I'm good Mm hmm, like syrup on the biscut and orange juice ??? Come and take me by the hand and walk ya I'm the thief in the night that slide your droors off ya Watch where ya steppin I'm a verbal weapon Bring more pain then when John Wayne came on old westerns What is the actual fuckin meaning I come in this bitch, without leavin this bitch that think we leaning It's been like that since way back I used to rock eight tracks before I rocked eight decks Concepts goin stay fat, concerts goin stay packed Ownership's goin stay black, nigga this is payback I scrape ya somethin crawlin to establishment Now I'm country club livin from the scribble scrabblin my talent Proper proper droppin somethin decent Yall niggas is as fucked up as Santa Clause for easter I'm a keep comin as long as KLC keep drummin-acap