[Intro]
  Yo Fuck that!
  Word to mother yo
  Who you runnin' with? AFFICIAL NAST! Fuck that!
  Who you runnin' with? AFFICIAL NAST!
  
  [Fredro Starr]
  
  Yo, I'm goin' straight for ya head to leave you headless
  Eyez are redness, I spray rap cats, to burn a lack tips
  Point like rain, I take aim, blow ya brain out the frame
  Eight shots'll touch ya, spit ya physical structure
  MUTHAFUCKA this is lyrical destructure!
  Path from disaster, face Nast comin' at ya
  Full blast, I catch ya fragile ass, breath like ya astma
  Couldn't kill less, you approach your near death
  My hollow tips, rip a kid that's politic, with da villains
  The devil himself, a rebel in himself, trapped in America
  Assassinate ya charachter, slaughter ya
  Twenty more holes in ya (norica?), FUCK ALL OF YA!
  What?! Bringin' MC's, YEAH, callin' ya
  Livin' like a nigga with six months to live
  On da edge of life, wouldn't think twice, to make a SACRIFICE!
  To a hoist, ya niggaz ain't drew to life, my whole crew is trife!
  So bring ya wildest nigga rappin' for ya team
  See his ass who was clean, this is Suicide Queens
  Where gats bust, cut rope, cross Callahtaru
  Gather shatter you, feel the pain, son imaginable
  Self shit, straight from the hood, the dirty black shit
  Rap shit, get ya back ripped, plus the gat spit
  Blown in the cockred bag, or 32 tracks
  Murder you in raps, let my wild dogs bust the CATS!
  Styles leave the best dead, I stay breast-fed
  And when I die, be handcuffed til my deadbag
  
  [Chorus] *Sample from "Rampage"*
  
  
  [Sticky Fingaz]
  
  Sticky Fingaz sneak up, when you least expect it
  I never fuck pussy, that seed's infected
  Fuck a brain frie, make me think he rational
  If I even think you sceamin', YOU KNOW I'MA BLAST YOU
  I'm too raw, what issue out your gore? I cut through any challenger
  Or top macho immature, you'd rather be in the Projects
  But an ass, where's a hundred G's cash
  You know gun, in the fuck with Sticky, Fredro 'n Son
  You lookin' at one desperate nigga, you shouldn't've messed with
  I had a doctor scared, movin' (----)(?)
  'Memba when I test it, this nigga manhood
  To see if he was a true nigga, so I pulled out my gun
  Gave some dramatic asspiece, and pulled the trigger
  Haha! Barrel empty, joke on New Jack
  He cold, pissed his pants, pulled his cover, he in New Jack
  You know where I'm comin' from, most of my niggaz pump 'n jump
  And when it's time to dump and run, I never jump the gun
  Or get cold feet, I hold heat, ya niggaz don't know me
  And six hours are made of four years
  Got high shit for your ears, sorry somethin' that I never felt yo
  Fingatips made 'em fell chrome, you talkin' shit like it's a little game
  That's now how we get down, 'beef' is my middlename
  So don't die over nonsense, I ain't got no conscious
  Come out ya face you gettin' shot, everything was spittin' hot
  I need fame without the bread, like I need a hole in the head
  And insult the injury, you can't fuck with me, guess that's not ya capuchi
  I'm every star me, if you haul what you eat, fuck the rookies rejects
  Play close and detects, I had a hard life, grew up too quik
  But kept it tight with my true clique, I start in a new flip
  Fuck you're frontin' for? I seen back, what you tell between your leg
  Afficial Nast in da house to meet 'em dead!
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Sonsee]
  
  You takin' a RIDE, in da ambulance
  You catch mad damages, cock the hammer shit
  Leave you Los like Angeles, You ain't brick, my stock-o
  But paper my shit, whatever you got, to take in da way
  YOU'RE BAKIN' TODAY, trust that, it's time to crush cats
  When I bust raps, I rust tracks and oft act, BUCKWILD!
  Army comin' through, hear nigga, DRUNK STYLE!
  FUCK YOU! FUCK THE JUDGE! FUCK TRIAL!
  I'm givin' nigga shatter ego's, I keep fools
  On pet bet face more threat, MAKE 'EM EAT THOSE!
  Leave goals my death, sleep ho's get wet
  If that ain't enough, we come through and hold ya shit
  Hit you with da FIREWORKS, you see the stars BLINKIN'
  I really BANG THEM and prepare you for God's ANGELS
  It's not a humble, but some shit you can't come through
  Nigga try to blow he gotta go, and now you know
  He's fearin', from the fearious, irious, dead serious, high styrious
  Feelin' ya, interior, wait nervousness for ya services
  WE CUTTIN' OFF YOUR CIRCULATION, AND DEAD IN YA PURPOSES!
  We them niggaz you can't FUCK with, friend will shine
  
  
  All mics I slang (--), change your mind
  Of those thinkin' they playin' theirself, NEXT is ACTION
  Ya stole, you muthafuckaz gettin' CHROME!
  
  [Chorus]