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(feat. Goody-2) [Ced Gee:] Yeah~! Hehehehe, uh-huh, uh-huh We bouts to get gutter You know what I'm talkin 'bout son, we takin this back to the STREETS (To the streets..) on some Ultramagnetic heat (caliente) Ced Gee, Kool Keith (Goody-2) drop it Yo, feel me, here we go Check it, uhh [Chorus: x4] We gotta rock, Nottz is in our pocket [Kool Keith:] I'm more tragic with the treats than a cheap critic on the net, talkin shit, downloadin beats Piss on the type of nigga that won't go the distance Take his girl to the World Serious, I'm behind homeplate You thrifty bastards, sit in the bleacher seats With secondhand pre-washed jeans, and hippie coats on Alternative clothes, I never seen That shit ain't the STREET! All you discount bargain hunters fuck up the game, and make rap weak The previous albums, those are the tracks I leak I save all my good stuff SongtexteLittle pieces of shit don't deserve to hear me at my peak Mountain niggaz with climbin gear, suck my dick And hop in the back of your Cherokee Jeep with Cherokee beeps! I know I come steep, the Ranger Rover Play Sesame Street niggaz out like Oscar the Grouch and Grover See bitches wigs in the middle intersection Back up the track and I roll over [Chorus] [Ced Gee:] You know me! I don't give a fuck who you wit I murder you, your crew, and all those fools you wit I blast shots from my 9, 'til I move ya kid Aim one for your head, then three to your ribs You talk a good one son, but all that shit is fibs Your time is up in this game, you got a short time to live Your whole career, was nuttin but hype Your whole career, you talked about your silver and called it ice Your whole career, was sold out for a very low price Your whole career, your stupid ass couldn't get your couple of weak lines right Son are you tryin to fuck with me tonight? (Nahh Ced, they ain't fuckin with you tonight) [Chorus] [Goody-2:] Goody-2 You say you loco, think weed out {?} pojo Four cuatro, a couple of rhinos in the barrel I don't think this asshole is gonna be here tomorrow Definitely, I be reppin the Boogie Down Bronx My method will be, lethal weapons of word destruction And I'm growin up lyrically Y'all niggaz can't do shit to me Y'all can't leave dawg, your girl be missin me Pissin me off, have her go back, cryin to your door I won't stand there stressed, especially for broads I'm not the nicest, I'm one of the best You fuck with me I put exaggerated holes in your chest I make your lung feel the wrath of my lyrical flow And the heat of the beat by who do you know, you know I said fuck all you bitches that don't think I'm the one If you pass by my block then I'm pressin you son I understand why this shit is so hard to grasp You in my class, I'm goin fast, leavin you last Look at me now, 285 pounds - cats is weak - ohhh [Chorus x2] Aus Songtexte Mania