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Oh! It's time, people
Make some noise
Let's hear it for the fuckin'...
Alright
Please welcome
The Bad Ass Records and 1983's Olympian
2Pac, leave that alone
Swollen Members!
Y'all ready to party with us? Make some fuckin' noise
Put your fuckin' hands up
Yo, I'm a cannibal on anthrax, howlin'
Down on my victims, swirl with the vial and
Chamber music, cough off the dungeons
Stun gun never sound redundant, funded
I don't give a fuck, more bang for your buck
Got shit to pump? You got dick to suck?
Repent my sins, wipe the prints, leave the crime
Cold-blooded killers with medieval minds
The soulful overdose, homegrown like freight train
Shit is fat on weight gain
Prouder than one man stand, prouder
Pitbull testovirin' gunpowder
What's up, all of you?
Alright, alright
What's up, y'all?
Feds are like, cross from handstand
Dom in the jukebox, '65 Mustang
Pepsi-Cola, palm trees, the farm
Mash that buffet and that girl's paper tongue
Recon for doom, full moon conquer
Longer we stay in L.A., we stay stronger
Molotov cocktail, locked and loaded
Murder MCs for free with no motive
Hard time relaxin', not used to taxes
Sick rifles, no crossbow axes
Bang this bitch, plus, who you really down with?
I'm all around the world, you on some hangin' downtown shit
Make some fuckin' noise
Two steps ahead, too hard to swallow this
Eyeglass reflections, tools and astrologist
Stars, galaxies, galleries of arms waved
Front, back rows untamed
Crucial, using maximum amount of brain
Grinding the edge of my ass to stay awake
Lane shiftin', stay at a distance
Have my way with the sentence, hail the vicious
Double helix, bumbling rejects
Here in the raw jungle, knuckles in defense
Knuckle under the enormous tension from my presence
I humble those that deem an almost eager of attention
It hurts when it works and the verse in you find
That you truly have a mind of art, art, art
But your mouth doesn't want to help you out
When you speak and all you do is spit a line of chalk, chalk, chalk
I'm responsible for this (This)
Invisible pulses on the wrist (Wrist)
But you'll risk if you don't believe that one exists
Gas on heaters, dancers in Vegas
From the bottom of the pit, shit, you can't mistake us
Eyes full of hunger, styles that pull you under
Eat unlimited circles, speak in energy circles
We make you wonder 'bout the Viking, Madchild
As you know, we guaranteed to breed the call of the wild
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