Face Down

[Intro] Yo FUCK THAT word up man! (Word to mother yo) Who you runnin wit? (AFFICIAL NAST!) Fuck that, who you runnin wit? (AFFICIAL NAST!) [Fredro Starr] Yo I'm goin straight for your head to leave you headless Eyes of redness, I spray rap cats, to burn the lead tips Point blank range, I take aim, blow your brain out the frame Eight shots'll touch ya, spit ya physical structure Motherfucker this is lyrical destruction Path of disaster face Nast, comin at cha full blast And capture grabs your last, breath like the asthma Couldn't care less, you approachin near death My hollow tips, rip into your vest politic, with the fearless The devil himself, a rebel in himself Trapped in America, assassinate your character, slaughter ya Twenty more holes, in your Nautica, FUCK ALL OF YA! What?! Bringin MC's, YEAH, callin ya Livin like a nigga with six months to live On the edge of life, wouldn't think twice, to make a SACRIFICE Do a heist, ya niggas ain't true to life, my whole crew is trife! So bring your wildest nigga reppin for your team Tear his ass to his spleen, this is Suicide Queens Where gats bust, cutthroat, cross collateral Gat'll shatter you, feel the pain, it's unimaginable Self shit, straight from the hood, the dirty black shit Rap shit, get your back ripped, plus the gat spit Load it and cock it bag, on thirty-two tracks Murder you in raps, let my wild dogs bust the CATS! Styles leave the best dead, I stay breast-fed And when I die, be handcuffed, to my deathbed {*scratched "face down on the pavement" -] LL Cool J*} [Sticky Fingaz] Sticky Fingaz sneak up, when you least expect it I never fuck pussy that's yeast infected Fuck a brain fry, make me think irrational If I even think you schemin, YOU KNOW I'M BLASTIN YOU I'm too raw; what is you - out you gourd? I cut through any challenger, top notch or amateur You'd rather be in the projects butt-ass with a hundred G's cash And no gun, than to fuck with Sticky, Fredro 'n Son You lookin at one desperate nigga, you shouldn't mess with I had a doctor scared to remove a bullet from yo' intestine 'Member when I tested, this nigga manhood To see if he was a true nigga, so I pulled out my gun Gave some dramatic ass speech then, pulled the trigger {*CLICK*} Ha hah! Barrel empty, joke on you Jack He cold pissed his pants, blew his cover, he a New Jack You know where I'm comin from, most my niggas pump 'n jump And when it's time to dump and run, I never jump the gun Or get cold feet, I hold heat Y'a niggas don't know me; in six hours I made up four years Got high shit for your ears; Sorry somethin that I never felt yo, fingertips made of Velcro You talkin shit like it's a little game That's now how we get down - 'beef' is my middle name So don't die over nonsense, I ain't got no conscience Come out your face you gettin shot Everything I'm spittin hot - I need fame without the bread Like I need a hole in the head Add insult to injury, you can't fuck with me Guess that's not your cup of tea - I'm every star I meet If you are what you eat, fuck the rookies, rejects Plainclothes and detect's I had a hard life, grew up too quick But kept it tight with my true click, startin a new flip Fuck you frontin for? I seen your bag With your tail between your leg Afficial Nast in the house that mean you DEAD! {*scratched "face down on the pavement" -] LL Cool J*} [Sonsee] You takin a RIDE, in the ambulance, you catch mad damages Cock the hammer shit, leave you Los(t) like Angeles You ain't brick, or stucco, or paper machete Whatever you got, get taken away, YOU'RE BAKIN TODAY Trust that, it's time to crush cats, when I bust raps I rush tracks, and oft' act, BUCKWILD! Army comin through here nigga, TRUCK STYLE! FUCK YOU! FUCK THE JUDGE! FUCK TRIAL! I'm givin niggas shattered egos, I keep foes Or a pet bet they small threat, MAKE 'EM EAT THOSE! Deep goes my depth, sleep hoes get wet If that ain't enough, we come through and hose your shit Hit you with the FIREWORKS, you see the stars BANGIN I really BANG YOU, and prepare you for God's ANGELS It's not on humble, but some shit you can't come through Nigga try to blow he gotta go, and now you know Experience, from the furious, eeriest Dead serious, hysterias, fillin ya, interior With nervousness, for your services WE CUTTIN OFF YOUR CIRCULATION AND DEADEN YA PURPOSES! We them niggas you can't FUCK with, rain or shine All mics I slain yo' kind, changed the mind Of those thinkin of playin theyrself, NEXT Is ETCHED, in stone, you motherfuckers gettin BLOWN! {*scratched "face down on the pavement" -] LL Cool J*}