Re-Up Intro

[Pusha-T:] Yughk! Young obnoxious, hand on our crotches Swagger outta this world call us the Diddy boppers Fuck the shit out ya girl, let the city watch us Hit her with the dougie like Cam'ron — Move bitch, move bitch, throw that shit, my jam's on White Lambo; hear them fans blow! Black interior, I's a modern day Sambo So niggerish, they flows frivolous Tickle us pink like white girl clitoris Fucking the game up, Re-Up Them niggas deceive ya, we get 'em for 13 fever We don't believe ya My reputation carry stripes in hood, I am zebra Fucker! Neither, you nor ya man's my caliber I challenge ya, the cocaine balancer We hear you from afar, I'm silencer, Neighborhood P [Sandman:] Dig it — I'm in a rage like Cujo Y'all wanna wrestle, play sumo Merk yer bitch ass on my uno You know — shots from the two blow Flush all other nigga faces We take other niggas' places, 'cuse us! No excuses, lame like Confucius! Don't confuse us, we really do this! Re-Up's ruthless, ain't much to prove this! Two clips, not Pusha and Mal The two holding the rounds The click-clack and the pow, pussy! Talk foul, get slapped in ya mouth, pussy! When I'm around, take it back out of the house, pussy! And I'm flossing too, big charm wit a igloo, R & S blue Sky like, I'm high like, giraffe ass Crack hash, Re-Up, what y'all mad at? [Malice:] This ain't nothing but candy from a baby; I sell that shit! Got 'em stuck since the '80s Y'all ain't even thinking about sticking to format; Y'all niggas telling, "oo-oo"ing like Horshack Singing with the band, with snares and hi-hats And it ain't slow us, no we kept hunting for more crack! We ain't holla back, nigga we holla Black! Card Era, second coming taking ya back And it's a known fact y'all tired of the circus So come home where you smell the crack in the verses! The whole rap world watched the Clipse take a bow We left it in ya hands, you ain't make Father proud! None of y'all can copy—a hard act to follow We was cursed with the spirit of verses, the stigmata! Suicide bomb ya, like Mohamed Atta Or the doors on that Phantom, Re-Up, we rap martyrs what? [Ab-Liva:] Black Card Exclusive, member of the secret society: It's not just music that I barter with Tape tight on the soft ya chef to get harder with Art of it, mastered the flame that they solder with Young'un you could learn — Liva Coach Carter it! I was a part of it, loiter in the wool Ritz thirty paces from work, I thirty grand, two shirts "Chez a Re-Va jeux tee" scribbled in the wool stitch Three quarter blazer; Sharp like a single edge razor on them gemstars Breaking that beige up Now I'm an arm left of the best as we conquest The rest of the rap game, you listen in vain nigga Got lil' bad bitches Emilio Pucci; Sitting on blades like Christie Yamaguchi In the SL two-seat; six-inch heels by Gucci; When a player land ma scoop me No luggage I shopped in, California sun on my skin As the rocks blind traffic that I'm in I'm Magic with pen; I'm Jordan in the booth; I'm 'Melo with the flow; Lebron I'm the truth