"Testin My Gangsta"
  [DJ Paul Talking]
    [Verse 1: DJ Paul]
  I comes from a city where they love to hate, especially on that Triple Six
  They see we really got Bentley's and Benz's and they hate the shit
  They try to come up over us, the radio even help em' at it
  But yall ain't got no flows, so hang it up you silly rabbits
  I'ma keep on hurting you boys, by making this motherfuckin' world rock
  Side to fuckin' silence bitch for years and man we still ain't stop
  Still ridin' clean, makin' cheese and carrying plastic glocks
  And please don't try to test us cuz you know we'll let these bitches pop
  On you hoes, you haters, you niggaz really like us
  Cuz if you thank us, then you wouldn't try to sound so much like us
  I'm the K-I-N-G of that M-P-H-M-S (Memphis)
  H-C-P, to the E-N-D, others gone be less
  Come prepared, man I swear they wanna be down with my team
  Don't let the shit talkin' on them CD's fool you
  That ain't what they really mean
  The truth can hurt so bad so look in they faces when you play us
  And watch how they look, and watch they jaw drop to the pavement
  Nigga
    [Chorus: DJ Paul]
  Why yall Test My Gangsta
  These bitches Test My Gangsta
  [Repeat 8x]
  Cuz it's on now
  Nigga yeah it's on now
  [Repeat 4x]
    [Verse 2: Lord Infamous]
  Nigga don't you know that Lord can make your life a living hell
  And I mean that literally, the place where demon spirits dwell
  Empty all the buck-shot shells, make your fucking body smell
  I can fuck you up somewhere, to where you were they cannot tell
  Fuck me with me, you fucking with the best
  Nigga so all you fucking with the wrong one
  I will hit you with the milli-milli gun, got a millimeter gun
  Blow out ya lungs
  Like them old I-Tal-Ians, Mafia, devil son
  When you see me coming, better run for fucking cover bum
  (BLITE!) AK, SK, .44, Tre-8
  This body kinda heavy, D.O.A., air away
  Bitch you better take notes, 'fo you end up cut-throat
  And ya on the ground bro', with your fuckin' shirt soaked
  Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo, blow a nigga out his clothes
  Come out the trench-coat with a Sawed-Off, and lay me down a hoe
  So if you think ScareCrow ain't a gangsta come and test the waters
  You will be de-slaughtered, the dearly departed
    [Chorus]
    [Verse 3: Crunchy Black]
  Why you niggaz wanna test my gangsta?
  Don't make a nigga run up and shank ya
  Or put some cement in yo shit and sank ya
  Or make you shoot yourself and then I'm thankin' ya
  Throw tile over round your throat and drag ya cuz
  Get nothing from me, but gangsta love
  No testin' me my nigga, have you laying in blood
  Or dig you a grave, cut ya bitch ass up
    [Verse 4: Juicy-J]
  (Yeah Hoe!) [repeated throw the verse]
  You niggaz be trying to test, I ain't no slouch
  I squeeze my fuckin' fist, my nig', I break the law
  I call out a hit my nig', I make the fall
  The handle with the bloody trig', is all they saw
  'Fo yo ugly face was down, on the ground
  A barrel pointed at your frown, with hollow rounds
  I bet ya wanna run and shit, it's too late now
  You shouldn't have been runnin' ya lip, to make me clown
  Bitch!
    [Chorus]