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(feat. Jaysaun, Krumb Snatcha) [DJ Supreme One cuts up] [L.L. Cool J] (Rock the Beat) [VERSE 1: Krumb Snatcha] Your ghostwriter can't write, read from material Black King Lear, Shakespeare, skill imperial Lose when I spread throughout crews, venereal V.D. leakin out your CD and stereo Cell block rap, chew out your backpacks Nickel to the dime, host a battle, bring it online Cockin on a nine and blow out your whole mind Be the same effect you get when you step to Snatcha rhymes Every verse a scripture, spirits'll hit ya Start shakin like I'm earthquakin on the Richter Plus-sized beats completes the whole mixture Imagine that like a Kodak, the perfect picture Tourin nights, floorin mics, reachin for a satellite Vigils and candle lights, in the words of Frank White I'm fightin you and your bitin crew to pen your dopest rhymes We get up in that ass everytime [Krumb Snatcha] This is raw gangsta It's that hip-hop shit thugs can bang ta Letras de cancionesIn the streets where heat is no stranger And my peeps behind, they might shank ya No piece of mind when cops chase us Livin life stressed in cell spaces (say what) It's the nine or the shotie that makes a new patient Riders, gangbangers, OG's and chain-takers [VERSE 3: Jaysaun] You loud-mouth niggas lock your traps We'll cock these raps and put some AC units in your stocking caps We understand you're mad cause you're stuck in your place You out of shape and overweight, nigga, suck in your waist Without Snoop Dogg 'murder's the case' We carryin a portable volcano, soon erupt in your face Jaysaun, Edo.G and Krumb Snatcha at it As you french-kiss a full-metal jacket, faggot This is East Coast gangsta music, somethin to kill to Pop pills to, the purple haze fills you Creators appear courtesy of Hennessy and me OG's before BET's Marie was Free So when you see us three on 2-3's In a '04 M3, in the back playin PS3 'Wear your glasses' like DMC Before your brain matter scattered on your GMC [Jaysaun] This is extra gangsta It's that gun-bust shit filled with anger Startin beef in streets, we not strangers If you don't close your mouth we might blaze ya It's a five to nine that I'm facin Livin life with mad aggravation (say what) It's mind tellin body about to lose patience And leave you brainless courtesy of the stainless [VERSE 3: Edo.G] Yo, stop talkin bullshit like pastors in religion No vision, I live and die by my decision Confess to killin MC's by my own admission Ghetto niggas pay a high price for a low cost of livin Thug rappers been to jail, ain't never been to prison If it's money or gettin bloody, then my hand and my trigger finger itchin I'ma spit to this shit You can't improvise with actin hard, stick to the script Edo.G bang with the best, even corny-ass crews With the same chain and piece that hang from they chest I know most niggas on a first name basis A tropical oasis, runnin from old cases Y'all can't put all the names with the faces Depends on the game if the king's higher than the aces Takin shots, no chasers You're past your prime, bow out gracious Before you have to face it [Edo.G] This is far from gangsta It's that hip-hop shit filled with anger It's the streets, to beef it's no stranger It's these beats and rhymes that might change ya It's the peace of mind that I'm chasin Livin life with less aggravation It's mind tellin body about to lose patience Writers, DJ's, MC's, and breakers (Rock the Beat) From Letras Mania