M.U.G. (Money Under Ground)

[O.C.] Penicillin on wax, the cure for rap Crooklyn Dodger number two back on the map Perhaps you thought I was gone, well surprise nigga Not physically, but I'mma massive figure Al Pacino status, the baddest, exotic Repition like a automatic, can't stop it High floatin, po satin like coke snortin When Ise a fetus, moms thought about abortin Important, am I? gotta ask myself But then I think twice like a gemini Authentic, percentage, calculating my mind state Eat foods and fit it Bizarre pa, ain't it, flow you thru like draino Lava, from a volcano Scorchin, torchin the microphone I lost it Poppin shit, who got my back Freddie Foxxx with the twin millies Burn a temperillo Aiyo Foxxx fuck these niggas Slice em up like an ox pop [Freddie Foxxx] Yeah Ok, it's time to bring these rap cats from Fantasy Isle I bring it to these fake niggas with a Tech and a smile You know my stid-dyle, America's most feared entertainer Yeah from New York to Cali, I'm called an acid rainer While you frontin like ballin, son I stays in the mix Same bullets in your burner since '76 Act like you can't tell, shit be live as hell Bustin so much shots When my shells hit the ground it sound like "Rock the Bells" Call me Bumpy Knuckles cuz my hands be swell From knockin niggas out from the lies they tell Oh well, I bet you feel me all up in ya chest I make the softest nigga catch a body, blame it on stress And if he snitch, I bail him out and murder his bitch And then sedate him with my four pound clap Shit's only rap But I'm livin like that So when while niggas be talkin' like dogs, and walkin like cats Niggas mouths were gettin way too fat But O.C. & big Fid-Oxxx, we bought to bring it back "Let's go back" "I'm tellin it just like that" Chorus: O.C. & Freddie Foxxx We be money under ground but you can't get none Cuz if you step into my round, you be one dead son We get love where niggas be scared to come And we got a whole lot to give, but you don't want none [O.C.] (Freddie Foxxx) {both} Any nigga play high post, I'm runnin over O.C. weigh tons like a fuckin Range Rover (Tellin niggas to they face that the facade is over Now it's time for this real nigga shit, can you feel this?) No question, we manifestin, what we feel Bust up in your session, smack niggas up like adolescents (Like at D&D, I can't see a gang, no motherfuckin body, seein me That's just pure fantasy) True indeed son, we ain't the one While niggas goin out like that, we bring it on like Scarface (That's means murder case, I bring highs to any base Disrespect the closed session & your ass get's laced) {So all of these beats and these rhymes attached} (Mean that real niggas on the mic, bringin it back It's mad potent, like good crack, it's type addictive All up in ya mind, you don't wan't hard times) Chorus What?