(CHORUS)
"f** em, fu-fu-f** f** em all"
"I bury those co*kroaches"
"What'd they ever do for us?"
"I bury those co*kroaches"
"f** you man!"
[Willie D]
I gotta bone to pick cause I'm sick
Of you motherf**ers talkin sh**
We pick you up, you put us down and I'm mad
Time to talk about your dog a**
[Scarface]
Jealous motherf**ers its seems wanna try the Ak'
"How do you do em?" f** em up like a cardiac
So if your curious get a blood donor
Cause I'mma f** you up so bad, that you're momma won't know ya
I pity the fool who diss the mastermind of wreckin sh**
Now let me tell ya somethin b**h
Get yaself a headstone and a box of pine
Cause when I catch up with ya, ya a** is mine
The line is drawn word is bond
The motherf**ers who crossed it are dead and gone
Punk motherf**ers gon s** a dick
Bushwick, "Yeah money" what you think about this bullsh**?
[Bushwick Bill]
f** those unknown motherf**ers
With a 10 foot pole that can't touch us
Before the Geto Boys came around
You can't front their clout, H-town was no town
Yeah we know you still skeptic
Cause we ain't kissin no God damn a** to be accepted
And if you're waitin on that to happen s**a
You'll be a waitin motherf**er
sh** outta luck, stuck and got f**ed
Fo's up to those who down with us
And to you other mothaf**as in the atmosphere
I'm sayin f** you loud and clear
(CHORUS)
[Bushwick Bill]
Radios, newspapers, TVs
Spreadin lies across the seven seas
Many people thought we couldn't endure
n***as are buyin now they ain't so sure
Billboard has us check out our status
I don't understand you hoes, whats the matter
[Willie D]
The motherf**ers are sick
Constipated, col' fulla sh**
They tried to keep us off the market
Straight up ho sh**, they had to stock it
My back don't pack no monkeys
Cause I kick mo' a** than a donkey
I gotta pump but I will jump
Yous a punk or a one on one ya run to the trunk
If you're motherf**in feet fits the shoe
I'm Willie D and I came to say, f** you!
f** you has been stated by the underground master
Show me a high-siddity b**h and I'll thrash her
f** you is what ourselves should do
And spit on ya nasty a** when I'm through
You don't like me, cause what ya see is a figure
I'm a for real a** n***a
I won't iron your clothes or pay rent at your place
There ain't a damn thing baby about my face
[Bushwick Bill]
The whole faculty's on crack
You say I can't wear my hat, but yo, f** that
You call yourself teacher, but whats bein taught?
How to f** kids and not get caught?
How can your teacher reach ya
Their too busy in the halls tryin to f** the other teacher
Bushwick Bill (?some Jamaican i imagine?)
[Ready Red]
f** the motherf**in critics, f** newspapers
f** the radio stations
And f** your parents against rap
We buried ya f**in co*kroaches
[Willie D]
To every motherf**er who diss my crew
I'm sayin f** you, now what you hoes wanna do?
I gotta arsenal in my Blazer for instance
Some sh** that'll shake the ground so keep ya distance
Parents confiscate my tapes
Sendin letters and sh** talkin bout how they hate
The album Controversy's they're rebellin
I don't give a f** cause the sh**s still sellin
So this is how the D'll respond
I'mma cuss my a** off for your daughters and sons
And if you don't like it spouse
You can s** my dick until your lips fall off
I've had it up to here with this bullsh**
To each I preach without a pulpit
Pause I don't do, nails I don't chew
Whenever I fix my mouth to say, fu*k YOU
"I Bury those co*kroaches"