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[Intro: Sean Price] Pen my mutha fuckin' rhyme, yeah, what up, what up? Boot Camp in the house, Sean P, set it off, yo [Verse 1: Sean Price] Hey yo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome Sean is a killer, Monkey Barz, Sean a gorilla Great ape in the flesh, the Great 8 is the best Duke, I spit bodies and take name, and take aim At wack-ass rappers who be thinkin' that they the king Stop with the lies 'fore I put a knot on your eye Pop a popular guy, pa, plot your demise It's not just a rhyme, it's a actual fact That the God would actually clap at any rapper that's wack Internet niggas usin' my image, you not Sean Triple-w-dot-get the fuck on-dot com [Verse 2: Top Dog] I'm still G'd up, G.C.'d up B.C.'d up, blaze the weed up Henny in my cup, jump in my truck Knuck if you buck and bust if I don't trust, so... Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or the gun's in my hand, the gun goes "blam" My shit don't jam, murk you and your fam Letras de cancionesIn a military stance, got you pissin' in your pants [Verse 3: Rock] Yo, I roll with a bunch of gun dumpers You'se a fag, you roll with a bunch of butt munchers I will ghost you, but won't nobody call no Ghostbusters Bet if you live, next time you'll call some toast busters I'm so gutter, since you really shook, I whoop bouncers My reputation precedes me, they know I could and would Out countless hood pouncers, I beat fire out of niggas like you My right hand's a recliner, lean back off that Track of the pack of your cabbage, fall flat Smack of the earth, with your staff's jacked before that Happen, I'm Boot Camp, what you expect from me? I ain't askin' for love, you fuckers better love me [Hook:] So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy Don't you walk around like you raw Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy Don't you walk around like you raw Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy [Verse 4: Buckshot] Buck is mass murder, I murder the masses New or old school, I shoot up they classes Niggas need glasses when you lookin' at I To recognize BDI, I'm a crook 'til I die Fuck y'all, why? I was on the low with no dough And y'all was like, "Nah, I don't no go" When y'all had yo flow, now my attitude is so-so You jealous and you wanna tell po-po, for what, yo? I don't sell no crack I don't sell no cocaine, weed now or none of that But, I am here for runnin' rap I tell you one thing, fuck with that, gun in your back Boo-ya-ka! Who ya nah? Buckshot, I was here before Tupac died No doubt, One Nation, I'm done wastin' time Now my gun facin' while you wastin' lines, we rise [Hook:] So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy Don't you walk around like you raw Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy Don't you walk around like you raw Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy [Verse 5: Tek] This little nigga went out for a night on the town With a cone-head hoodie and a black four-pound Ran up to the door, told 'em "open it now 'Fore I cock back the hammer and blow the shit down" Now you see how bad niggas on my dick Sayin' what you did to me when you ain't do shit 'Cept hide behind your man, cop a plea to my dude Y'all niggas is sweet, easily become food So stay in your lane, homes, before them thangs drawn And it be you and all of your mans gone [Verse 6: Louieville Sluggah] Look, ain't nobody doin' a got-damn Forever B-C-C is the fam So sucker niggas hate if you want Get your chest blown out, crack a nigga blazin' a skunk I'm high as Cheech, levels you can't reach Sippin' on that 'Nac, tighten up the strap Fuckin' with this 'Bad Bitch' and her name ain't Trina Just a thorough bitch, told me "Stack and keep your feet up" I'm on mines double time, yeah, your boy gotta shine And my life consist of more then just rhymes Niggas hatin' on the bankroll But nigga, front if you want, stand under the halo [Hook:] So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy Don't you walk around like you raw Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy Don't You Cross The Line, understand? Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy Don't you walk around like you raw Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy [Verse 7: Steele] Yeah, if you cross me, that'll be costly Lose a lung or a limb, slug puncture your artery Go thatta-way, you're startin' to bother me When I'm frustrated, guns blazin', no apologies Fuck what they told you, I don't know you I don't owe you a damn thing, fuck what you go through I got issues of my own, pistols made of chrome Specially used to some dudes like you back home From Letras Mania