Stand Down

[Intro: Rah Digga] Digga Digga, Young Zee Brick City, come home with me [Verse 1: Rah Digga] Welcome to my Newark life, guess how much you off by? Thinkin’ shit is peachy ‘cause I let ‘em see my soft side Haters go and walk by, watch ‘em with a hawk eye Heat up in the trunk, razor blade in the sports bra I don’t ever sweat them, let my bitches sex men I be on the side line reelin’ all the checks in Niggas tryna get ass, ‘cause they know a bitch bad Gettin’ all these chicks mad, ‘cause they look like shit bags Clothes fittin’ too tight, lookin’ like a crew of dikes Guts bulgin’ out, on some cheap shit you would like Hoe don’t play with me, nothing’s gonna save your team No comparison, mac bitch, you just Maybelline Coppin’ new Bentleys, Continental, the white one My cousin got the Chrysler, ‘cause they look just like ‘em Got Chloe [?] James Earl, don’t wanna see them things twirl Violins and shit, tellin’ Mary, “Play them strings, girl” [Hook: Rah Digga] (x2) Niggas betta tell they boys (Stand down! Stand down!) Jersey run this mothafucka (Hands down! Hands down!) All you hear is bullets flyin’ (Man down! Man down!) I ain’t gotta tell you kids, y’all know the fuck it is [Verse 2: Young Zee] Get any, kids you can find or any chicks that can rhyme From all, different kinds have ‘em get in a line Men, get crippled and blind and ripped with the nine Women get, kindly turned around and hit from behind (Turn around) From all ages, short black dudes to the tall Asians Down to long Haitians, I spank all the Caucasians Young, I write songs every day off blunts You ain’t wrote raps since y’all son was born, he eighteen months I’m from Bricks, fuck, some movies and popcorn No R&B, rats just wan’ do it to Pac songs We bag up Os on the average [?] It’s right back to the store to bag up some mo’ It’s like I sell crack how niggas tap on my do’ Got guns my cousin brought me back from the wo’ (From the war) My time is finished, Digga rhymin’ wit’ us Plus the violiners, go get me six pints of Guinness [Hook: Rah Digga] (x2) Niggas betta tell they boys (Stand down! Stand down!) Jersey run this mothafucka (Hands down! Hands down!) All you hear is bullets flyin’ (Man down! Man down!) I ain’t gotta tell you kids, y’all know the fuck it is [Outro: Sativa] This is Sativa, and you don’t want no problems with my mother and my father