Lyrics:

A breaker 1, a breaker 2

I be the Don up in this motherfucker, I puts it down
I rock, skate, I roll bounce to the ounce
I bring that physical funk, believe it
I function the paraplegic
So teach it, like if you was playing backgammon
A new sheriff in town and not Reggie Hammond
I pack a cannon .38 snub nose
Not for shooting, use it for executing
Lames out there calling my name
For fame, change your plan, punk, refrain
This tune leaves your whole crew stuck on stupid
Dumb and Dumber all this summer
A newcomer, yeah, I take 'em to check out the avenue
Me and my crew we're through
Wooh! Ah-ah! Word is bond! Word is bond!

I said 'Come on!' (Come on!) 'Come on!' (Come on!)
Grease them pots and pans so some niggas can get done on
Fuck, I'm not the one to front on, I'm lyrically inclined
Seriously devine, whatever we G is crime
Ha! I take it there, make it clear, in your bare lair
Leaving critical as St. Elsewhere
You wanna get jig-dafied-what it all means
Fuck Versac', I tote Glocks in the Karl jeans
By all means nece-ssary, my blood vessel
Turns to .38 specials and 'cause wind trestles
I be blowing like I'm Mr. Cool
The invincible, keeping my court trials municipal
For principal, my next class will teach you how to roll blunts
Pick up bitches, buddha, and mesc' tabs
Fifteen for less, more vexed than Soviets
Another connect on my Rolodex
I'm at my smoke apex, I keep my lyrics mad ghetto
Cash in your chips then proceed to blast metal
Next up, I believe that's Keith
Why don't ya get on the mic and rock the symphony

Well, it's the 16-bar slaughterer, telepathical brain murderer
Coming with the shit you never heard
Ask yourself the very same question:
Which crew is fucking with this Squad in this profession?
Your mic's in my possession, I crush you with aggression
And I ain't talking for niggas to learn a lesson
So why should I, sit around and let this fake shit pass my eye
Fake niggas fucking up my high
Filthy McNasty just the slob for the job
Forget any clan, set, crew, squad or mob
Tied up, beat down, shot up and robbed
Niggas asking why, it's my motherfuckin' job
How many ways can I say 'I just don't give a fuck!'
Running niggas over in Erick truck
But my motto is 'Fuck 'em!'
Get the bottle, pass the bottle, bad luck, had to stuck 'em
I crush your brain and smash your spine
Yeah, another hard one to find