[Verse One: Xzibit]
I don't f** around I'll break you down in the hours of H
All these L.A. Times motherf**ers keepin the pace
No need to pull strings things still get done
To have you yellin at the top of yo lungs
So Xzibit never speak wit a false tounge
Slid off like a handgun
Tryin to build an empire to pa** to my grandson
I never like to talk business over the phone
So either have love for the game or leave it alone
Plus action speak louder than words
And p**y move faster than birds
So I gotta keep a gameface
On the street you slip, and you might catch a hot one
Xzibit stay low and kick back like a shotgun
I keep it bangin to the end of the line
When a rapper think his saggin style is f**in with mine, it's divine
Cuz my family is harder than bricks
Anything to keep it movin cuz it's harder to hit
[Chorus]
(Ras Ka**)
Only right I f** wit you when you f**in' wit mine
Keep it movin to the end of the line
And action speak louder than words
And p**y move faster than birds
Gotta keep a gameface
(Xzibit)
Only right I f** wit you when you f**in' wit mine
Keep it movin to the end of the line
And action speak louder than words
And p**y move faster than birds
Gotta keep a gameface
[Verse 2: Ras Ka**]
Men must be either pampered or crushed
To regulate, relegate, delegate power, n***a touch something
Trust no one and die dumping
Drained ya battery you barely talking like Teddy Ruxpin
See that's wa**up, n***a I don't give a f**
Say some sh** so nasty, it'll make Little Kim blush
As if, a 98 bentley didn't tempt me
To lay bullsh** over this empty
But consequently my conscience wouldn't permit me
I'm one-third black man, one-third Jackie Chan
One-third sand, shiftin across the surface of the land
Golden State Warrior let my nuts hang like n***as in nooses
While you givin groupies all your loochie
I'm known for f**ing hoochies in suzukis
And known for slippin bourgeois b**hes roofies
Loved and feared, severe yet loved
The full time titan fighting three million over night thugs
So keep your, hand out your rectum cause you can't stop sh**
Don't rock sh**, studio hustlers
Claimin' they got more keys than a locksmith
What part of the game is this
Bonus Round, give me the mic, the money
The p**y in that order, the more, the over-populated
Get f**ed and orally copulated
And all you chumps on some you owe me an apology sh**
Can s** yo apology out my dick
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
(Ras Ka**)
This is for the black n***as, the yak sippers
The part time strippers,slash full time student,and fifty buck slippers
I got athletes feet,we run these contrete streets
Sporting cleats, ain't nothing sweet
(Xzibit)
I'm making rappers get they sh** together
Still smokin, still drinkin, still maintain clear thinkin
Everyday is the weekend, mashin thru in a lincoln
And style so sick, the whole car start stinking
[Chorus]