No
(What you know about-) uh
Say, what? (This is nuts right here)
Say, what? (What?) (what up? What up?)
We ridin' again, y'all (say, what?)
(What up? What up?)
De La soul (get live)
Likwit MC's, X to the Z, Xzibit, right
Huh, yo, we ain't playing
New millennium

Yo, who hold guns and rock ice bigger than life
Got bitches throwing they drawers on stage? That ain't me
I raise kids, push whips, piss an MC
Love money like I love my moms (ah)
Love my nigga Com Sense (what up, Common?)
When he bang dents all up in they wallets (what up?)
Wall to wall bullshit, I got hardwood floors (word up)
Set sail for tour ever since '89
So y'all are fucking the same hoes who used to be mine (woo)

And I've been waiting three summers to rhyme 'longside my people
Rico, De La, inject you with the lethal
Dose of hop-hipping if you thought CaTash was slipping
Then put that drink down, you drunk off what you sipping
Catash put the dip in dip dive socialize
Fuck around with me and next you'll find yo' crib burglarized

Yo, you better recognize and try to analyze this (analyze this)
Hand over fist, how can a man act like a bitch?
Change and switch, snitch on his crew
Yo, get rid of the niggas before the same thing happen to you

And they'll leave your ass sticky like glue
Blood leaking out, girls freaking out
Motherfucking cops tweaking out
Got you on your knees like a freak, juggling deez nuts (yeah)
Smuggling these cuts from S.C., you best believe
There's no web or leave a net
We done swallowed forty bottles of threat, yo (yeah)

What you know about my writes? (My writes)
What you know about what's weak, what's tight?
And what you know about an off night? (Uh)
What you know about niggas frontin' for the light? (Yeah)
And what you know about them gun fights? (Gun fights)
Got a nigga ducking while them girls show fright
And what you know about my writes? (My writes)
Ah, what you know about my writes? (My writes) (yeah, yeah, look)

I'm Samson without Delilah, the soul survivor
The drunk driver that rolls straight, take the whole cake
Chop it up with the family, wash it down with alcohol (yeah, yeah)
My telly's a Desert Eagle for all the fucking shots I called
My niggas gotta ball, never settle for less
Heavy metal, heavy on yo' chest like two breasts
Step into my office 'cause it's time for you to roll something
One false move, and we gon' beat you like you stole something

Yo, these style I kick should be called Bic Rap (Bic Rap)
Drawing the pussy out the nigga after my prize 'cause I want it
They stomach what I throw, they know I'm right for they diet
They librarian flow keeps the party real quiet (shh)
The love I lost outweighs the rhymes I gain
But the fact that I spit 'em makes me cherish the name
So pass the mic so I can put in my share
I rip it from home to L.A. With connecting flights to rip it elsewhere

Drinking a Black and Tan in the back of a van
I learned as a young man, long trip, piss in a can
Getting a house for two grand, now you got your own land
Let your mind expand, every day have a plan
Ro-gram is rare earth, swingin' Black Tarzan (come on)
You got to live with the cards dealt in yo' hand
Stay young like Peter Pan, like Sly, take a stand
And go Uptown Saturday night like Ichiban

I keep it dirty like under the bed (dirty)
Dirty like Uncle Red, hey, yo, e-le-le poo-poo
Dirty brown Likwit flow thicker than the Yoo-Hoo
Dirt you dishing out, chef telling it all
Face down in the dirt, doing my dirty work
Expert, trying to regulate my net worth
Head jerk, spice it with rice, stiff with it
If they ask who cut the grits I'ma say E-Swift did it

Yo, what you know about my writes? (My writes)
What you know about what's weak, what's tight?
And what you know about an off night? (What you know?)
What you know about niggas frontin' for the light?
And what you know about them gun fights? (I don't know)
Got a nigga ducking while them girls show fright
What you know about my writes? (Yo, my writes)
Ah, what you know about my writes? (My writes)

And I've been known to get it on, past the break of the dawn
Tash'll punch you in your grill and leave 'Potholes in Yo' Lawn' (c'mon)
You making diss songs? Spit that rhyme my way
I can shut why y'all niggas down like the Y2K
I did a tour in '94 with De La Soul and Tribe
We on the same vibe 'cause real niggas coincide
(Right-right-right)
The situation is drastic
But, see, songs like these is why this album going classic

This is for the DJ, bring it back one time
I drop bombs like when my moms told me to rhyme
I'm old school like my dad is
So add this, to your collect', Plug Won, who the baddest?

Hey yo, we theme park status, upstage these niggas like Gladys
Them little pips, they done tripped the wire
Blaming they legs, while I'm claiming these tunes
In this we'll stay down like seats found in sorority bathrooms (yeah)

We flat out classic, separate the real from the plastic
And I gotta say no names, play no games
Hit the switches, crack the frame
Show no shame or fuck it all up, take the blame
Brand name fresh out the box type hustle
Manpower success is mind over muscle
Grind 'til the wheels fall off, accept the loss
I never been soft, whatever the cost, addicted to floss
Nailed to the cross it's time to return
My only concern is making sure that Hollywood burn
Hollywood burn, burn to the ground, trick-ass niggas (yeah, yeah)
Is all up in the game and don't deserve to be down

Four bottle rap, twist the cap and kick back
De La, Xzibit and Tha Liks came to get that
And what you know about us dropping ya
And leaving you with half a face like the Phantom of the Opera?

And what you know about my writes? (What you know?) (My writes)
What you know about what's weak, what's tight?
And what you know about an off night? (Uh)
What you know about niggas frontin' for the light? (Frontin')
And what you know about them gun fights? (Gun fights)
Got a nigga ducking while them girls show fright
What you know about my writes? (My writes)
And what you know about my writes? (My writes)

Ah, what you know about my writes? (My writes)
Ah, what you know about my writes? (My writes)

You got the right to shut the fuck up

If you a fat chick gettin' your fuck on tonight
Say, "Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh"

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Alvin N Joiner, David Jolicoeur, James Robinson, Kelvin Mercer, M. Mcbride, Rico Smith, Vincent Mason