The Grunge

Car 36, 36, we got a situation in progress 37 between 5th and 6th We got a possible homicide All cars, all cars, we got a situation down Ayo, toxi' off the grey goose, vodka, shots of hypnotic Ya'll bitches want beef, son, you got it Fresh off the bliz-knock, Bob Diz-noc Plex on the K.B., son, you get shiz-not Right in your hiz-ead, you'll be diz-ed Don't front on this nigga, I'mma from New York Ci-zey! Ya'll butter pec', make my nuts weak Have me walk around, talkin' backward with stutter speak Like tuh tuh tuh tuh tuh, buh buh buh buh Butter pec', make my nutter weak And ya'll crabs down south, you ain't got a clue How it feel to slip in that papi chino power you White Cadillac truck just high beamed us Mami look like she was Angie Martinez I don't español, I play imposter I was like "Mamacita, yah yah, que pasa?" And slip back to my casa She was like "Nigga! You sound like rasta!" I'm the ace in the decks I'm the ace in the deck, still casin' a Tec That filled with the taste of the lead, buck buck The bass and the treb', the space in the back Where chumps walk by, and they face get slapped I'm not known to talk a lot Sit on five whips, son, so I don't walk a lot Got ten chicks, so I don't hawk a lot Been around the world, but I love New York a lot Especially up in Bedstuy, with those crazy Cuffies Or in Fort Green, with those crazy Cuffies Ya'll floss like ya'll Jay-Z and Puffy's You get robbed, bucked down by a crazy Cuffie Bobby! Fuckin' the mics is my hobby Fuckin' the mics is my hobby Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby --- The Grunge - RZA