[Nick Cannon]

Black Squad, come out and play

N'Credible!

[Verse 1: Charlie Clips & Nick Cannon]

Yo, yo

Black Squad the best squad, no need to repeat it

Don't make me call my killa up, my hitman is Conceited

He be wildin' out, whether he's sober or weeded

And he bring the cannon for me whenever I need it, facts

So break fast before I grip that can of biscuit

If you around when I shoot, then gotta jam the witness

What you movin'? Pounds? Ounces? Your grams is vicious?

Nigga, please; your weight cheap, like Planet Fitness, ha

Matter of fact, let's switch the topic

These niggas talk about five O's but never cop it

Wait, you caught that? 5-0, but never cop it?

Damn, my whole team blackin' out, we goin' gothic

Your baby moms loves my name, she hear the gossip

She treat me like a floor with a janitor, gotta mop it

No matter what you do, my nigga, she can't stop it

Like the kids game, she twist, pull it, and bop it

She slow-motioned on a nigga since a juvenile

That's why I'm drillin' in her mouth like a root canal

Forgot my next line, I feel stupid now

My six sing, New Edition, nigga, cool it now

Chill, Nick, you ain't even gotta do 'em foul

Let me do the shootin' 'cause you shootin' movies now

[Verse 2: Nick Cannon]

Aight, teasey, more bitches

Your girl coochie? (Mmm) Delicious (Ha-ha)

He bought a deuce-deuce and think he good

Fuck outta here, our guns big as Suge (Knight)

Had to take over Hollywood, and not a hood (Right)

Sayin' I look like a genie, wish a nigga would (Christ)

Call your bitch Ms. Bobsled how she pushin' wood

She got that bomb head, and that pussy good

That's what Con' said, I'll never fuck that bomb bitch (no)

See your window, all his hoes go to my do'

And if they ugly, fuck off my flo'

Is it really just them haters that's all in your ear?

Or could it be my diamonds as flawless and clear?

That pussy was a day, I had an incredible year

[Interlude: Nick Cannon]

Get it? That pussy was a day?

Nigga, that's 365 bitches, nigga!

And an extra bitch on leap year!

Ayo, Con', you ain't fuckin' with me

[Verse 3: Conceited]

It must be the cash that I carry in the bag

Big green faces, Jim Carrey in a mask

And these other rappers all are spittin' sloppy

They thinking they on fire, I'mma call 'em Ricky Bobby (I'm on fire!)

I'm in ya lobby, gon' let the pump blam

Bucks jam, cans on my waist like Duffman

You goin' to the coroner, that's the cut man

When I come with the sweeper like a dustpan

You'll get a suntan talkin' all the crap, I'm strapped

The barrel be on your hat, that's a Cubs fan

Like the Jumpman, I got her with her legs open

Kill her knees when I blaze it, now that's Greg Oden

That's a lie if you thinkin' that I'm packin' knives

Got the big nose in my jeans like the Jackson 5

Hey, Nick, that was a good punchline

But your girl let me bang with the stick: Drumline

(You're salty)

[Interlude: Nick Cannon]

Alright, enough with the jokes

We real serious

We bringing that heavy artillery

Y'all know his name, all the way from St. Louis — Hitman Holla!

[Verse 4: Hitman Holla]

Livin' life, bust down Rollie, drippin' ice

Don't trust a soul, I'm rhin' grippin' the Smith n' tight

Main bitch bad, my side piece pimpin' nice (Whoo!)

We ain't the same, I'm cut different, thicker knife

Look, stop the dissin'

I'm not allowed back on Delta (Why?)

They say I'm fly enough to be the competition

Listen closely, if I said it, I mean it

I'm skatin' around with all this ice, like I play for the Penguins

Your girl love me, every night she lay with my penis

She get me hard as concrete, then she play with my semen, genius

Look, my mind on another level (It is)

My flow deep, to dig it, you'll need a couple shovels (Word)

They gon' feel mine, gettin' money is my real sign

I might fly to London just to kill time

Black Squad, we the new don clique (Uh-huh)

Between me, Con', and Clips, your chick got hit

I ain't mention Nick because that chance one hundred percent (One hunnid)

I would put you on gang, but I got money to get

Black Squad