Released on 2004

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[Intro: Phonte]

Uh, I done told these little bastards to stop fuckin' wit us

Aiyyo, I done told these little cocksuckers to stop fuckin' wit us

This is that grown man... aiyyo

I done told them little motherfuckers to stop fuckin' wit us

Y'all boys must be a little nervous

Little Brother


[Verse 1: Phonte]

I put the mic to ya

Take a couple publishing rights from ya

Tell ya momma she can write to ya

Nah, that ain't right to ya

But Tay is sick of your ailments

My rhyme is so blinding, they're calling me braille-iant

'Cause you ain't box wit' a Cold Vein-ed Cannibal Ox nigga

That be in the Chop Shop when we stop to drop scriptures

Cardiac arrest your style, I mean have a heart-to-heart wit' ya

I swing like hard-hitter 'cause you boring me

So God bless the day that Khrysis recorded me

And Big Pooh, he always got my loyalty

9th is king of his beat machine – now that's mechanical royalty

Phonte ain't scared of you boys, I'm taking care of you, dog

Better get these little niggas from round him, at whatever the cost

Spit terrorist bars

Nigga, who you think Saddam was rockin' to when they found him?

This is mixtape shit that I spit

Feel the pain of a nigga gettin' his beast on

In my Nissan, switchin' four or five lanes, drunk with ambition

Designated to drive you motherfuckers insane, bitch!


[Verse 2: Rapper Big Pooh]

I put them boys in a box

Like they tried to box us, let the audience watch

Rapper Pooh fight back unorthodox

Pump hits out the Shop like we moving the rocks

Eat a cock to them naysayers

Who wish that we didn't record, so at night they pray for it

Cocksucker, you gon' pay for it

I'm talking butter, baby, all day you gotta churn

No, it – didn't stop with The Listening or Foreign Exchange

Get Connected with the best who be doing it, mane

From the grapes out in Naples to the shores in Maine

To Noize out in Denmark, who be doing his thang

Everybody gon' remember the name, it's like that

Despite that, niggas wanna hold me back

I Tom Petty verses over the track, son

You got a-hundred-and-fifty problems, this is one-fifty-one

Yeah!