Daz:
Aw yeah!
Right about now it's time to get busy
Huh, straight out the box, nonstop
Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I
(Wait a minute, um)
Crooked I:
This is the art of, manslaughter
When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water
You entered the wrong scuffle
You catchin' a chrome buckle
I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles
Deliver the sick verbals
My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,
your body spin around, in six circles
Diminishin' infamous menaces
I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents
Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region
Freezin g's in your legion
Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician
It's all about Crooked
These bitches shout Crooked
I'll make you say the West Coast aint shit without Crooked
I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled
When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables
I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya
Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha
Daz:
Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?
Can you fucc with this?
Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up
Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit
Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!
Kurupt:
Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts
The storm, my vocals float like arts
In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme
My microphone massacres every year the same time
With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker
Up against the microphone night stalker
With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me
As you can see I continue mashin' MCs
Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer
Extra-terrestrial microphone terror
In effect, get infected
Tell me what the fucc you expected
These venemous injections
I leave whole sections, and
