Yo, it's a fucked-up thing! I gotta bring Kid N' Play on this motherfuckin'
album here, two pussy punk-ass niggas - yo, check this out, what I'ma do
is I'ma go get last year's rookie of the year, JT Money of Poison Clan,
this year's rookie of the year, Bustdown - yo, Bustdown, kick some of
that West Bank shit on these fuck niggas!!
[Verse 1: Bustdown]
Well, I'm first up as a rhyme conveyor
Luke Records in the house for the payback, player
Kid N' Play can suck a dick! Get me a mic and a 40
And let a real nigga wreck shit
To me you're walking on a tightrope. Instead of tryin'
To be real, you're steady sweatin' them white folks
Keep runnin' your big mouth, but if you come to my hood,
You'll get your asshole whipped out!
Then I'ma play you to the back seat
'Cause I'm runnin' more game than a track meet athlete
As if you didn't know, huh, you're dealing
With a West Bank dicksman, hoe
But anyway, I got a rhyme to deliver
Get your draws out your ass, quit frontin', my nigga
'Cause if you don't, well you'll keep gettin dissed on
And if I see you at a show and you're slippin', you're gettin' pissed on!
(What about Kid N' Play?)
[Verse 2: JT Money]
Now for starters, with Kids I don't Play
'Cause y'all some fuck-ass, punk-ass, coochie niggas anyway
JT i the house, niggas, check it
Tryin' to diss my nigga Luke to sell your wack record?
Let me talk about the Kid. I remember
Some ol' coochie-nigga shit you did
When we was up in New York
You was followin' Luke, talkin' 'bout, "We gotta talk!"
On that man's dick, got your ass wide
Open and you're talkin' that bullshit
Both movies, I boo 'em, 'cause you had hoes,
But you wasn't stickin' pipe to 'em
Thought they was fantastic. But through the
Whole fuckin' movie, Kid was gettin' his ass kicked
And 'bout that other nigga Play - He needs to
Get dissed 'cause he's a punk nigga anyway
Be 'round here kissin' hoes, while I'm dissin' hoes
And stabbin 'em with fishin' poles
You need to try to lay pipe in 'em
Oh, I forgot - punks don't like women
Now you're tryin' to diss somebody
At Jack the Rapper, you was hangin' 'round Luke's parties
Now you're outta gas, with two motherfuckin'
Punk-haters on yo' ass, JT and Bustdown
Now let's see you hoe niggas get tough now
Get the rubbers out your ass, dick-suckers!
...and fuck them pussy motherfuckers.
[Verse 3: Bustdown]
Now let me put my boy Kid in his place
With them wick-wack rhymes soundin' like Rob Base!
'Cause if I have to come tag that ass,
I'ma max, wax, tax and drag that ass!
I get sharp like a ice pick
I'm on a hype tip, holdin' mic tight as a vice grip
You couldn't deal with the concept
I'm collected and calm, but on the mike I'm a bomb threat
So motherfuckers get real
I got a heart like gold and a dick like steel
You wanna diss, punk? Please!
You got a flat top thicker than commodity cheese!
Luke left it up to me and JT
To take it from the bottom to the T-O-P
I seen your second House Party; it figures:
Two House Parties for two house-ass niggas!
Two house motherfuckin' niggas. Do y'all niggas know what a house
nigga is? A house nigga is a nigga who work in the house. Who cleans
the master's ass, who cleans behind the master, who wash the master's
ass. Y'all house niggas. I'ma feel niggas, we feel niggas here in Miami.
That's why y'all niggas can't understand us, y'all fuck-niggas talkin' too
much shit, y'all niggas better watch what you sayin' 'cause y'all fuck-
niggas, y'all don't know, y'all get fucked up here. Yo, check this out -
Miami is closed to y'all niggas. Y'all barred. Y'all can't come here no
more, fuck-niggas. Y'all can't sell no more records here. And if all real
niggas in the world is real like us, y'all don't buy them fuck-niggas' shit
no more. 'Cause they ain't shit. Pussy punk-ass niggas.