[Verse: Quelle Chris]
Yea yea, I say what up, hello
Take a few pinches, down a pitcher then pick up and go
It's so overly O of C
P-R-S-N-O-P-C-N-A-O-B-S around
Oh ha, I guess you noticed the crown
What's starklin' in it with you feminine emcees now?
Or how, I don't even know how
LA Metro P, on your beats I don't ever slow down
Peace up to them brothers Sko
And peace up to them lil bro Mo
Yea all those OCs keep that bowl smell
That oil drip ripper make your lungs swell
It's going swell, sweller than Warren G
And they dark [?] on the ladies headed to the hotel
God's body, unbreakable, no frail
Afro-asiatic mind, [?], oh well
This devil dollars, I don't mind man
I handle bidness, I don't rhyme man
I hear that sellout sh** all the time man
But you ain't makin' no money, what you doin' it [?] for?
We made it all this way without s**in' no dicks
Check the track record, every lease is alliance
To every dollar that I get I'm deservin' that grip
And when I say you hate your b**h be servin' that sh**
‘Scuse my French
Had to leave you losers behind, excuse the bench
Keep it one hundred and funky, excuse the stench
I don't think you deserve a cent, this dude's the Grinch
You don't say sh** about Q, Q's a saint
Q do it so thorough, you dudes just can't
Smoke, mask cologne, pardon the dank
Maybe one day you'll be dope enough to be part of the greats
Greats, n***a
(The ABC's of offence is essential to any system of self-defence)