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Verse 1: Spliff Star



Yeah

Heh

A Flipmode y`all (x4)

Hah

Heh

Hahahaha

Yo

Yo, Uh

I spits rhymes for thug cats

Neighborhood drug rats

Hardcore

Keep it raw

What

Niggaz love that

Stack the greenbacks

And stay steady with the weed sack

Spliff Star one of the famous foreigners

>From East Flat-Bush

Fire arms till you no longer breather black

Make it hot

Standin on the corner wit the G-Pack

Look at me

Lampin in defiance wit my seats back

Got the game to fuck wit ?Jane? where you and her sleep at



Verse 2: Rah Digga



Lyrically inclined

And inclined to get lyrical

Checkin for residuals

Rhymin be the ritual

Ill individual

Bad habitat

Watch my voice battle cats

While i`m spittin battle raps

On the high horse

And i keep my saddle strapped

You`d be headin up the river like `where the paddle at?`

Got a rhyme overload

Rah Digga always front ya

Leavin niggaz stuck like I was accupuncture



Chorus:



Got niggaz from the hood

Thinkin shit all good

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

Got niggaz outta town

Tryin to come and be down

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

Got niggaz online

Think they fuckin wit mine

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!



Verse 3: Baby Sham



It makes alot of sense

When you see Sham in black Benz

With high friends

Pull up the club wit dark tints

Never jump out

Thats why they lookin dead in my mouth

They must have doubts

Like who the stars wit no lookouts

You`d be amazed and surprised to who would run in your house

And tag their names on the stomach of your pregnant spouse

I shall leave you wit dat

BIB from QB

Boys In Black

And foul attitudes to match



Verse 4: Busta Rhymes



Yo

Now who you be god

I be the soul controller

I burst gas like the fizz outta your Coca Cola

Live shit like the energy of solar

With thug niggaz wit names like Bullet Head and Cobra

Street niggaz be feelin the nights gettin cold, the rock

Bear skin furs like Australian polar

Hang up on whack bitches who call the Motorolla

And smack faggots like you don`t make me have ta show ya



Chorus



Verse 5: Rampage



Ramp i`m not talkin son I`m comin out clappin

All you whack niggaz be poppin shit y`all niggaz actin

Flipmode number 1 squad that make shit happen

I`m rippin down shit while y`all other niggaz slackin

Money cats is stocked and locked plus I`m stackin

Them grimy niggaz rollin with me

Them niggaz packin

Bust 4 in your face pop 4 in your back and

8 bullets total in all I`m street trackin



Verse 6: Rocky Marciano



2 for my block like 10 in the mornin

Squish your organs like Swiss scheese whippin the arm

And flava blaze I play the corner

Wake up your neighbors wit my tape in order to feel my aura

Mauziano I`m like a silver Tzar holdin golden

Metal & dough I hold my arm swollen

On the farm belong for soldiers I control is like they seein Moses

Fiendin for flows I pose to split you open

Layin back rappers for motion picture me slap on my rappin boots



Chorus



Verse 7: Lord Have Mercy



The earth is the globe

Where I work my magic like Merlin unfold

Surface enclosure

Life worthless no goals

Perfect controls

Like Ayatola`s turbans and robes

From the counties of kings

Bails, bounties, pissie lobbies

50 armies

Probably bring hell on this earth

Legend of dirt

Smash ghettos & General`s turf

Menace incredible work

Land Lord blaze him and gave him the dirt

Hah



Chorus

Verse 1: Spliff Star



Yeah

Heh

A Flipmode y`all (x4)

Hah

Heh

Hahahaha

Yo

Yo, Uh

I spits rhymes for thug cats

Neighborhood drug rats

Hardcore

Keep it raw

What

Niggaz love that

Stack the greenbacks

And stay steady with the weed sack

Spliff Star one of the famous foreigners

>From East Flat-Bush

Fire arms till you no longer breather black

Make it hot

Standin on the corner wit the G-Pack

Look at me

Lampin in defiance wit my seats back

Got the game to fuck wit ?Jane? where you and her sleep at



Verse 2: Rah Digga



Lyrically inclined

And inclined to get lyrical

Checkin for residuals

Rhymin be the ritual

Ill individual

Bad habitat

Watch my voice battle cats

While i`m spittin battle raps

On the high horse

And i keep my saddle strapped

You`d be headin up the river like `where the paddle at?`

Got a rhyme overload

Rah Digga always front ya

Leavin niggaz stuck like I was accupuncture



Chorus:



Got niggaz from the hood

Thinkin shit all good

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

Got niggaz outta town

Tryin to come and be down

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

Got niggaz online

Think they fuckin wit mine

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!

I`m askin all y`all

WATCHA COME AROUND HERE FO!!!



Verse 3: Baby Sham



It makes alot of sense

When you see Sham in black Benz

With high friends

Pull up the club wit dark tints

Never jump out

Thats why they lookin dead in my mouth

They must have doubts

Like who the stars wit no lookouts

You`d be amazed and surprised to who would run in your house

And tag their names on the stomach of your pregnant spouse

I shall leave you wit dat

BIB from QB

Boys In Black

And foul attitudes to match



Verse 4: Busta Rhymes



Yo

Now who you be god

I be the soul controller

I burst gas like the fizz outta your Coca Cola

Live shit like the energy of solar

With thug niggaz wit names like Bullet Head and Cobra

Street niggaz be feelin the nights gettin cold, the rock

Bear skin furs like Australian polar

Hang up on whack bitches who call the Motorolla

And smack faggots like you don`t make me have ta show ya



Chorus



Verse 5: Rampage



Ramp i`m not talkin son I`m comin out clappin

All you whack niggaz be poppin shit y`all niggaz actin

Flipmode number 1 squad that make shit happen

I`m rippin down shit while y`all other niggaz slackin

Money cats is stocked and locked plus I`m stackin

Them grimy niggaz rollin with me

Them niggaz packin

Bust 4 in your face pop 4 in your back and

8 bullets total in all I`m street trackin



Verse 6: Rocky Marciano



2 for my block like 10 in the mornin

Squish your organs like Swiss scheese whippin the arm

And flava blaze I play the corner

Wake up your neighbors wit my tape in order to feel my aura

Mauziano I`m like a silver Tzar holdin golden

Metal & dough I hold my arm swollen

On the farm belong for soldiers I control is like they seein Moses

Fiendin for flows I pose to split you open

Layin back rappers for motion picture me slap on my rappin boots



Chorus



Verse 7: Lord Have Mercy



The earth is the globe

Where I work my magic like Merlin unfold

Surface enclosure

Life worthless no goals

Perfect controls

Like Ayatola`s turbans and robes

From the counties of kings

Bails, bounties, pissie lobbies

50 armies

Probably bring hell on this earth

Legend of dirt

Smash ghettos & General`s turf

Menace incredible work

Land Lord blaze him and gave him the dirt

Hah



Chorus

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