[Verse 1: Big Pun]
A-yo, I'm hard to talk to
If you live, I probably fought you
Stalked you where you walked through at night
Caught you, then tried to extort you
New York niggas is trigger happy, got Pataki scared
This town ain't big enough for both of us and I ain't goin' nowhere!
There it is, plain and simple
Like Jigga, my game is mental
While slow niggas better know I blow they brains out they temples
I'm into black magical torture
Romantic, dramatical author
Compatible with the average New Yorker
A fast talker, like Tony when he gassed Sosa
The masked enforcer, out for the cash and the cho-cha
Smash the coca, bottle it up, watch the fiends gobble it up
If I roll up, you do what? Swallow the stuff!
I don't give a fuck anymore
I'm only 24 years old and I've already broken every law
I'm horrorcore, this is for the heads
Runnin' up in your crib, now if you still hidin' under the bed
[Hook: Busta Rhymes]
Parental discretion advised! Cover your eyes!
Little kids — get out of here! This shit is homicide!
Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny!
Little girls too; this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey!
[Verse 2: Big Pun]
A-yo, my shit's the truth, 150 proof, no question
Parental discretion advised, keep out the eyes of the youth
It's too explicit, bullshit! I challenge the statistics
Violence existed before our music was even suggested
Arrested on sight, it's like there's no rights
That's why I rhyme so aggressive and bring every message to life
I fight the power, spike the powder — the 90 percent
Keep 10 and feed Twin half for personal reasons
The seasons change, things re-arrange, but I stay the same
I played the game for the wealth, until I've made myself a name
So blame it all on the gangster rapper, thanks to Joey Crack
For the chance to do it my way like Frank Sinatra
I ain't an actor so it's all facts, strictly raw rap
Totally intended for yours dressed in all black
With the ski mask or the pantyhose
Makin' cameos in liquor store cameras with the twin Calicos
[Hook x2: Busta Rhymes]
[Verse 3: Big Pun]
So forget the boom
One look, you shook — you know I'm stickin' you
Liftin' you off the ground, look down — that's where I'm puttin' you
Look in my eyes and remember me, how does it feel mentally
Havin' the enemy be the last thing you ever see?
The recipe is death and I'm the chef, fricasseein' your flesh
Be my guest, but I ain't cleanin' the mess
Me and TS, we testin' niggas faith just to see they face
Expression when destined to states, that death be in the case
I'm in the state of grace, in the hated race, by the pagan face
Couldn't fight us, made a virus, gave us AIDS
I paved the way 'cause they ain't get me yet
Wet me or affect me yet
I know they comin', they just tryin' to let me sweat
I recollect when I was just a boy, eatin' Chips Ahoy!
Wasn't allowed to raise my voice, now I'm makin' noise
No more toys, strictly MAC's and missiles
Shorties with forties packin' pistols
Catchin' bodies makes you official
So they say, I pray there's a better way
My kids don't do as I do, they do as I say, 'cause daddy don't play
[Hook x2: Busta Rhymes]
[Outro: Busta Rhymes]
Word is bond
One thing about MC's is that we don't conceal the truth
We present real pictures about the positive and the negative
So don't blame the hip-hop
When your seed is learnin' the real life from us
Do your duty at home and raise your child in the house
Parents, you don't do your job
We gonna put your children to bed at nine o'clock
Past your bedtime
You get your ass in bed, you ain't 'posed to be hearin' this shit
Word up, PUNISHMENT, motherfuckers!
By the Punisher and Busta Rhymes, hah
Terror Squad! Flipmode Squad, niggas!
