A2Z.� Steve Lob. all 'round the motherfuckin' globe, nigga. And you know how we do this here, nigga. We do that there. Pull up a chair, bitch.
Layzie Bone
Livin' legends in your presence, learn the lessons we stressin'/ It's all platinum/ We make it hot, hot, hot/ Livin' legends in your presence, learn the lessons we stressin'/ It's all platinum/ We make it hot, hot, hot
Caz
(Whoo) You can call me too sweet, knock a nigga on his back (Bing) Penetentary Six, I'm swingin' on this track/ Call me Boone or DeBarge, I'm livin' much too large, muscle hard/ Disreguard before I pull your card, no, the ho card when I entered the spot (C'mon...) plus I cocked my .412 on the dot (That's right) You think I'm not/ Here's the plot: Hair laid, game played (C'mon) back laid at the snooty fox gettin' some braids (Okay) Ain't no reason to hate, nigga, I ain't choose my fate/ I'm a pretty motherfucker, like a fag I wanna go straight/ Talk to 'em, wait, and let these pretty niggas speak/ If you continue to doubt, I'll pull your bitch before next week (Uh oh) Nigga, Layzie, Caz and Ice makin' a return like Old Spice/ Nigga, how yellow niggas back in/ Well, even Mack 10 can join the club, even though he bangin' blood/ This a pretty nigga clique, pockets stick and we dip
-Chorus-
Are you a thug, you a thug, you a thug, nigga what?�So bust your gun, nigga, you a thug, nigga, what?�So, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?�Nigga, what?�So throw it up nigga cause you know we gettin' crunk/ Throw it up, throw it up, throw it up, nigga what?�Don't press your luck nigga cause you know we throwin' slugs/ Nigga, what, nigga, what, nigga, what, nigga, what?� So bust your gun, nigga, if you a thug, nigga, what?
Layzie Bone
My nigga Caz gave me the gat, and better believe I'm a blast/ Nigga I'm a smash and get this cash, makin' you niggas think fast/ Nigga, at last it's real shit, the type of shit that we bring your way/ Caz, Layzie and Ice T, and nigga, we got them throw aways/ Go away haters/ And the faith didn't have they time/ Nigga gon' rape you with this rhyme, nigga, I'll break you with this Nine/ Nigga, it's all about perfect timin', feel me, feel me/ Waitin' til the Lord call me home/ And nigga, you bet we still be hustlin' tryin' to get the dollar; Holla, holla/ Swervin' in the Impala/ And nigga, we sayin' heat 'em up, beat 'em up, Caz/ Put your hands on these fools, take these fake-ass niggas to school, show these fake-ass niggas the rules/ I choose; Fuck 'em, fuck 'em, buck 'em all (Braaa...) And niggas, we'll see your ass at the mall, and nigga we still ballin' (ballin') Callin' these bitches, like, "Hey ho! What up, bitch!"� (Sup bitch!) And they can't understand me, but quick to gimme the panties/ Guess, the public demand me/ Understand we lookin' good, nigga, we dress to impress (That's us) Puttin' it down for the North, South, to the East to the West, nigga (Mo! Thug)
-Chorus-
Ice T
Who is the gangsta rap inventor? Slam' like the Lakers at the Staples Center/ Big pimp representer, half you motherfuckers mentor/�Knocked your main bitch and bent her, left her with a baby in her/ I'm mainly known for endless funds, blastin' guns, booze and bitches, cars with switches/ Known to rep the hardest city out on the west/ Known to break a bitch in a hour or less/ The indoor gun buster, the crowd mover; Quick to bring the gravity to ya with a Nine, Rueger/ Reach out and touch you with the chrome duster, the pearl clutcher/ I started this shit, and this the thanks I get?�You fake killa niggas get no dap, played it back/ Don't know genie when you see me, no eye contact cauze you could find yourself on your back, lookin' up at a blurry paramedic, Ice said it
-Chorus-
Livin' legends in your presence, learn the lessons we stressin'/ It's all platinum/ We make it hot, hot, hot/ Livin' legends in your presence, learn the lessons we stressin'/ It's all platinum/ We make it hot, hot, hot
-Outro-Layzie-
MFS. Caz.�How we do this there, we get that Caz.�That's right, nigga.�Layzie Bone, Ice T, some pretty boys up in there with more toys than y'all, we hittin' switches, cockin' glocks, lettin' all y'all niggas know it don't stop (Bitch.. Bitch back up ain't no autographs) Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's all platinum.�(We told you how yellow niggas was makin' a come-back.)
Recorded for the Caz album Thundadome/ www.artistdirect.com