[Verse One: LongShot]
Ayo we dick hoes, rip shows every time we spit those
Sick flows, nigga catching flu on the mic
Then you'll get yo', shit stole, man I'm 'bout to flip those
Thousand CD's just to prove that we tight
Not the Clipse old to get yo' ass on the Grind
Mine shaking the room and making a move e'rytime
New movement in this music of phoney baloney biz
But only for the dollar, flip properly, teach the kids
That ain't shit promised but death and raw deals
All y'all trying to make it 'bout weight for long years
I'mma take it to the chest like breaths of the bong kill
No cough, off dome, rock long for many years
Got grown, got own my square to handle biz
Now I hand it out to MC's like "Want it? Here it is."
Hot shit, toxic to the brain like Jane Buddah
Insane shooter, mayne do bang in newer
The flame through it, it came blazing the game ruin
Raising above the stakes in the Chi with better music
So put yo' drink down and bang to this
While I twist this skunk up and blaze a spliff bitch
[Hook]
Bang to this, put your weed down and just bang to this
All my real G's, y'all bang to this
Get up on the flo' and just bang to this
Uh huh, bang to this
I said, bang to this
All my real heads, y'all bang to this
I said put your drinks down and bang to this
Just get up on the dance flo' and bang to this
Uh huh bang to this
[Verse Two: Rusty Chains]
Ayo every fucking song's hot
Bang to this
No one's flows as nice as Longshots, Chains and Kents
Fien' to drop a bomb, everyone you know is getting hit
Three albums coming out, cross promotion, triple threat
Your styles outdated like barter and trades
Rhymes are raw heat your best bets to park in the shade
I won't stop until I'm getting all of us paid
You see us to hip hop is like a barber to fade
Cause we stay tight like a gang banger's butter braids
Rusty makes rapper's girls come out up they bustias
You ain't come to battle rap? Then you better run away
We take making music seriously, we ain't come to play
Flip patterns like Verbal, feed mouths just like Long
Fuck the fame and fortune we out to write songs
The only thing I hold this close to my heart is my mom
The most sacred thing in life is this page I write on
So don't even think about turning the mic on
Your raps are snacks to me like rats to pythons
See none of y'all can hang with this
We got the battle scars to prove this shit's dangerous
[Hook]
[Verse Three: Verbal Kent]
We load verses into the cannon and spit 'em at your grill
With the skill of with a mil you can bring your affiliates
We bum rush any stage you touch
Cause Verb bust in a second like he ain't fuck much
You should punch out, take lunch, and get punched out
You're in the wrong line of work, we gotta get locked down
I've been in the crowd with Rusty while you jack yourself off
On the stage, I'm the motherfucker flipping you off
Who the fuck told you you could rap? Who'd be so cruel?
What mean joke to play, you don't spit you drool
Let's duel with the tool, lock eyes in school I
Prove fools wrong with a black and blue eye
I'm attacking your crew like "What's happening dude?"
Distracting you from the thrashing that's due
Smash with no clue coming straight out the blue
I'm starving for rap, I don't even consume food
You couldn't even write your own style, you're that weak
You hear my shit and get the punchline later that week
Cause none of y'all can hate on this
All my criminals and thieves gang bang to this