Check 2-1-2

[Intro] Alright, c'mon, yeah, yo Yo, Dave, drop that shit, my nigga [Hook] Check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone? [Verse 1] Uh, back to the boogie, boogie to the bang Bang to the rhythm, rhythm to the slang Slang to the booth, booth to the truth Spittin' all these words for the wise and the youth Youth to the majors, them to the lasers Beams to the cream, crack rock to the fiends Fiends to the jails, jails to the tails All of your dreams that you thought it had failed Called you by surprise, now the Devil in your eyes Devil in your pie, see a coochee, hit the broad Stupid that you feelin' to live in the crack dealin' Look at the ceilin', stuck in prison, the walls peelin' Hatin' every day in your life, knew wrong from right Don't despite, now you payin' the price A nigga at your home layin' the pipe, your wife livin' a life Son fell in school, punked in a fight I keep it real with you, say, I give you a real scripture Money over bitches cause bitches, they will hit you Movin' at a good pace, never lose a race Providin' for your family, keepin' food on the plate Your money flows, doin' good, stay on your toes Sell out your rolls, fuck it, let the music control And take over, it ain't cool to be a street soldier Just somethin' to think about, shit, now I'm out [Hook] Uh, yeah, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone? [Verse 2] Uh, ayo, word on the street, G.E.D. ain't got spitters Like I ain't one of L.A.'s known crack dealers Known cap-peeler, might be the pipe shit The beat beat a price, yo, I guess I'll be the light Born to the flame, dived into 'cane Distributed cats to heat, distributed cats defeat The corner like peripheral, sneakin' like I tippy-toe Everythin' I write up in my verses, yeah, they fit me though '80s with the '90s flow Mixin' with the gangsta and the soul, I got it under control Hip-hop is mine, I'm throwin' you niggas signs I'm makin' you step your game up Lyrically, see, I came up from nothin' My back turned from frontin', all about my fetti Stayin' sharper than machete, eatin' rappers like spaghetti Who can fuck with me? That young (?) That bill crispy, the Benjamin These niggas softer than a cinnamon roll As I compose, my body arose up from the dead Every since Nas dropped that one album Put his flow over my corpse, I came up with a torch Hit the studio and comin' with force, yep, kaboom Guess who stepped in the room? Nigga been a nut since I shot in the womb I blow like balloon, thank you guys for some of your time Top five, nigga, dead or alive, Q