[Verse 1: Tom Green]
So what you wanna do, what you gonna wanna say?
When I bust a rap in an old school way
I rock it from the break of dawn 'till the break of day
Don't come a-knocking if you don't wanna play
And if you wanna play, you may get wet
I heard your wicky-whack track playing on ca**ette
So microphone check, microphone, mic check
You haven't heard me yet? You better hit the deck
I'm coming around the mountain with a red Corvette
And I'm coming at you live on your television set
There's nothing that I want that I don't got yet
There's no way to take it if you never make a bet
So Xzibit grab the mic, let me here you rock some sh** doing what you like - check it
[Verse 2: Xzibit]
Shotgun fanatic, who right back at it?
You get mopped and dropped, like a filthy habit
X, snatch and grab it, got you hoping I fail
If I fail you'd be happy, like a f*ggot in jail
I'm full retail, guaranteed to sell
In my jet black McLaren, with my mademoiselle
I'm strong-arm steady, you fragile and frail
You think you ready for they steady hitters? I can't tell
Sex sells, so f** you all, we came to bubble and ball
You getting shut own, soon as I touch down
Bust rounds, enemies slayed and cut down
Fully automatic, spitting rounds with no sound
Break down your whole regime, with my homie Tom Green
In a black limousine. Hurrr!
[Verse 3: Tom Green]
But I don't got change I do a lot of that sh** but I lay no claims
I'm begging for the wealth, I'm begging for fame
But baby ain't that sh**, just one and the same
Yo I waltz threw the room people know my name
Abide by the rules and I feel no pain
And if you get limpy I could use refrain
I break you like a freaking bone overlinking a chain (?)
I got a lot of people nervous, I'm taking the blame
I drop another f**ing bomb on Saddam Hussein
I don't smoke sh** laced with c**ain
And if you're not carefull you'll get the wrong Green
And if I'm ment to take the lords name in vain
But oh my God that sh** was strange, man!
[Verse 4: Tom Green]
Hollywood California that's one rhyme program with the beats
That make you freak and make the people go bananas
I'm going and flowing and fumbling strong (?) with the people that don't know
So give me the microphone and let my dope go rope show (?)
Your b**h is like Yoko, but I'm a Ringo
So move to the back yo, and check my single
I'm packing them up and then backing them up
Together like Pringles
And I'm backing them up to the back of the pack
Like a bad case of shingles
Now, you watch the OC, cause you're a p**y
I hit you with the 500 ton blast of George Bushy!!
You think my job is cushy
But then I'm clapping and rapping clapping the ba** (?) to wear gla**es nicer then a gla** of whiskey (?)
You think I'm kind of friskey, but for a dollar fifty
I'm flipping the lip that making you slip because I'm kind of nifty
I hitch hike from Manhattan to Mississippi
And then I ftoft (?) sh**ty, and oh what a pitty