[Intro: Ruste Juxx]

One, two One, two, uh

One Two One Two, check it

One Two One Two, show y'all niggas what I'm bout to do

Ruste Juxx in the buildin'

Evacuate all women and children

It's goin' down nigga

Yo

[Verse 1: Ruste Juxx]

Juxx coming at a don with a spliff of sensi

Plus an illmatic sixteen to rip a MC

Sharper than I ever been, who rhyme better than

The Crown Heights veteran spittin' that heroin?

So thorough and it only gets realer

Fuck a narcotic on the streets, I'm a death dealer

Ruste Reaper, squeezin a street sweeper

Body any beat, top dollar elite feature

My bars is barbarian, medieval

The aura of a king on the throne, the kid's regal

Scrap with that brrat, I shoot rapid violence

So when I spaz it's too graphic

I'm too classic, my albums are timeless

Your flow all fucked up, punchlines is rhymeless

Treat wack rappers like a wet food stamp

Ruste Juxx the vet, respect Boot Camp

[Chorus: Hex One]

These niggas want they space

They tell me get my fingers off they plates

While I'm gettin' thinner, they stuff they face

All you punks get laced

They don't want the spitter to touch they papes

But I'm here for dinner so fuck they space

These niggas want they space

They tell me get my fingers off they plates

While I'm gettin' thinner, they stuff they face

All you punks get laced

They don't want the spitter to touch they papes

But I'm here for dinner so fuck they space

[Verse 2: Halfcut]

Yo, punch clock and I'm back to work

My back hurts from trying to carry my team and lift them from under this dirt

I'm not of this earth, I surf the rings around saturn

With rhyme patterns so precise that he's splittin' atoms

Atomic, spittin' up vomit, this shit demonic

Catch a flow? They got a better chance of catchin a comet

These rappers actin' like they the next Christopher Wallace

But ain't Ready to Die, and they weapons ain't even polished

I lived forever in the Quantum of Solace

Just the way it is, the music biz

Got me unsteady, ready to lose my lid, the fuse is lit

We waitin to blow 'til we rakin in dough?

I'ma snatch your mic quick as Satan takin your soul

Ayo, we comin' for the top spot, shit on beats and cop squats

But these rap critics still sayin this shit is not hot?

Bars stay nasty and ugly as fuck

Ain't nobody out there hungry as us

It's time to eat, y'all

[Chorus: Hex One]

These niggas want they space

They tell me get my fingers off they plates

While I'm gettin' thinner, they stuff they face

All you punks get laced

They don't want the spitter to touch they papes

But I'm here for dinner so fuck they space

These niggas want they space

They tell me get my fingers off they plates

While I'm gettin' thinner, they stuff they face

All you punks get laced

They don't want the spitter to touch they papes

But I'm here for dinner so fuck they space

[Verse 3: Hex One]

I be a typical cross between a scholar and a criminal boss

Lyrical laws that we follow unlike biblical psalms

The violent ride that I deliver through bars could cause physical harms

You'd probably die from the centripetal force

That shit is a loss, to put money on your pitiful corpse

Or find it funny to shun me for my despicable thoughts

You scrubs is dummies with invisible horns

I ain't just hungry for these minimal carbs

I want it all, you fuckin' prick

Yo, these the fists of god you runnin' with

You crumbs get lit, if you don't cover bums with oven mitts

So come equipped, you punks is gluttons for punishment

My bars must have you buggin like a drug and you lovin' it

My son, that you can take it from me, the brutal rapist on beats

The agent who awakened Jason Voorhees

All you imitation Drakes have gone sweet

The masons wrote a revelation satan adaptation based upon me

[Chorus: Hex One]

These niggas want they space

They tell me get my fingers off they plates

While I'm gettin' thinner, they stuff they face

All you punks get laced

They don't want the spitter to touch they papes

But I'm here for dinner so fuck they space

These niggas want they space

They tell me get my fingers off they plates

While I'm gettin' thinner, they stuff they face

All you punks get laced

They don't want the spitter to touch they papes

But I'm here for dinner so fuck they space