U.G.P (Underground Professionalz) - N.Y. Sleezy lyrics

Yeah, you who it is 40 OZ (yeah, yeah), UGP (yeah, get the f** back), Nicks (yeah), Pot Bull (yeah, that's right) Chorus: Don't think that you can see we (let's go) UGP oh so crazy (why) We from the N.Y. Sleezy (get 'em up) It's kind of funny how we make it so easy [Verse 1 - Nickles:] Yo, I f**in' bang to like heavy metal, visions on another level Thoughts of a raging devil, scorch like a blazin' ghetto It's Nickle-Bags, and I'mma tell you this one time I'll loose my f**in' mind like them kids in Columbine To that, I hope you feel where I'm comin' from Treating certified, you mothaf**as is bubble-gum I'm a son of a gun, the father of swag The master of disaster while I'm swingin' my flag Yo I picture the swarm <--(?), we black hearted with guns We got to wild the f** out like the kids in the ?? Mentally torn, born from the drama and blues The karma indues <--(?), the way the f**in' lama it fools So pardon me dude, matter fact get out my way Verbally spray, like twin tecs right in your face I'm ruling your space, like "why, what the f** you gon' do" f** the law, yo we sell crack, Pot Bull who rules <--(?), why [Chorus] [Verse 2 - Pot Bull:] Yo, we at war mothaf**as, better guard the grill y'all I'm hard like a lion, yo you're soft like a b**h dog (b**h) And how long you think your fame gon' last When I erase your myspace and delete all your fans (mothaf**a) I told you, I'm not f**in' around (no) I'm at your house with you ductaped, my sock in your mouth I'm underground, and I don't need no air to breathe Just give me weed, get you ??? thru an I.V It's likely that my whole team will spit You want guns, we got this lyrical full clip (clack, clack) f** the bullsh**, I'mma let you know from the get-go (gideup) I'm mental, I'll burn your a** like Petro Your menstral, that I'll fist fight with f**in' f*gs I walk with my army similar to the Sons of Man Understand, I can do this all day long My technique's immortal <--(?), smash this sh** like ping-pong [Chorus] [Verse 3 - Diabolic:] Yo, N.Y. - M.I.C. checkin' street legend Three seconds, and you're stuck to my pipe like weed resin (yeah) So keep steppin', or handle the pressure of someone scannin' your retna on an ambulance stretcher (b**h) Will spark the lead, 'till you're scarred or dead If you brought the feds, or talk to pigs like Charlotte's Web Y'all are soft, don't set Bolic off Or he'll toss molataufs, and cause nuclear holocaust So have a co*ktail, while I polish off a shot Brush my shoulders off and watch you burn from across the block (haha) Go call the cops, and make sure they got the jaws of life to claw your wife off my co*k ('f** outta here) Nicks brought the Glock, Pot's robbin' your household And I'm knockin' you out cold, like cops in the South Pole (blah) Blodging a mouthful of co*k in your hole When Diabolic, El Nicks, and Pot go to war mothaf**a [Chorus]