[Verse 1: Crooked I]
If you can't stand the heat, better creep out the kitchen
This music so therapeutic, it could be our religion
If I am my own problem, then I am my own solution
We buildin' a glass house so you can see how we livin'
Hold up, turn the beat down and listen
I was predicted to be convicted; catching them beatdowns in prison
By prison guards cause f***; authority figures minority n***** be livin' hard
Tell me how to see out your vision, when you limit ours
You only want us seeing the struggle but I got
(Bands in my duffel, bands, bands in my duffel)
Yeah, you can ask the slaughters, I don't mess wit' you rappers
Matter of fact, our third album is a message to rappers
My n**** we let you breathe
Now all of them accolades from ratchet b****** and f*****s in this rapping business is over
It's back to the business of gangsta rapping that I'm mixin' with this backpack, spittin'
With a Rat Pack clique of n*****, you best believe
You p**** period, I bet you bleed
A fake n**** that listen to snakes n****, I bet you Eve
Meanwhile I'm on my Django with my field n*****
Twelve years a slave, this industry tryna' kill n*****
Even if they noose me, I die hangin' with some real n*****
And all my nephews are in my will like Uncle Phil, n****
I'm really c***y, but that's on the low like Makaveli's intro
When it sounded like somebody said "Suge shot me"
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
I shot the s*** with the n***** that shot s*** up
Welcome to my hood papi
Where every nights a movie, but never a good copy
I sat on granny couch, amped about what I'm rambling bout
When the amp blew out I made beats with my hands and mouth
The man of the house so early
Lil odd [?] curly
Blow out, running behind the girlys
My n**** Jigs nicknamed me Idoboy
I do miss him so durly
Just Blaze, I just blaze one up
Boy I'm headed up to mobile monday I hope you 45's ain't dirty
Don't need them b****** skipping
I know I'm skipping around but f*** it
Cuz I could still bust it with random thoughts
You gotta love it
Hey Crook you my brother
Royce you my brother
Joe you my brother
4 different fathers, 4 different mothers
But raised by the c**ture
You bet we were hanging the same poster
Staring at Lil Kim with the legs open
Rewinding the Nas verse, blasting some Hov
Dancing to Biggie, tripping off Canibus flow
Don't act like Cano wasn't a savage you know
But back then my squad, everyone rapping is pro
Yea Marshall Mathers my bro, hey Catfish it's a go
The magic of 2.0, Just gettin started
I'm confused because this healthy mindset made our album r*****ed
I'm just playing with words, yea they pay me for that
The stages of rap, ask these promoters these places is packed
Just killing time till that album drop
Slow it down, I dissed you
I said It's killing time when that album drop
If you can't stand the heat, better creep out the kitchen
This music so therapeutic, it could be our religion
If I am my own problem, then I am my own solution
We buildin' a glass house so you can see how we livin'
Hold up, turn the beat down and listen
I was predicted to be convicted; catching them beatdowns in prison
By prison guards cause f***; authority figures minority n***** be livin' hard
Tell me how to see out your vision, when you limit ours
You only want us seeing the struggle but I got
(Bands in my duffel, bands, bands in my duffel)
Yeah, you can ask the slaughters, I don't mess wit' you rappers
Matter of fact, our third album is a message to rappers
My n**** we let you breathe
Now all of them accolades from ratchet b****** and f*****s in this rapping business is over
It's back to the business of gangsta rapping that I'm mixin' with this backpack, spittin'
With a Rat Pack clique of n*****, you best believe
You p**** period, I bet you bleed
A fake n**** that listen to snakes n****, I bet you Eve
Meanwhile I'm on my Django with my field n*****
Twelve years a slave, this industry tryna' kill n*****
Even if they noose me, I die hangin' with some real n*****
And all my nephews are in my will like Uncle Phil, n****
I'm really c***y, but that's on the low like Makaveli's intro
When it sounded like somebody said "Suge shot me"
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
I shot the s*** with the n***** that shot s*** up
Welcome to my hood papi
Where every nights a movie, but never a good copy
I sat on granny couch, amped about what I'm rambling bout
When the amp blew out I made beats with my hands and mouth
The man of the house so early
Lil odd [?] curly
Blow out, running behind the girlys
My n**** Jigs nicknamed me Idoboy
I do miss him so durly
Just Blaze, I just blaze one up
Boy I'm headed up to mobile monday I hope you 45's ain't dirty
Don't need them b****** skipping
I know I'm skipping around but f*** it
Cuz I could still bust it with random thoughts
You gotta love it
Hey Crook you my brother
Royce you my brother
Joe you my brother
4 different fathers, 4 different mothers
But raised by the c**ture
You bet we were hanging the same poster
Staring at Lil Kim with the legs open
Rewinding the Nas verse, blasting some Hov
Dancing to Biggie, tripping off Canibus flow
Don't act like Cano wasn't a savage you know
But back then my squad, everyone rapping is pro
Yea Marshall Mathers my bro, hey Catfish it's a go
The magic of 2.0, Just gettin started
I'm confused because this healthy mindset made our album r*****ed
I'm just playing with words, yea they pay me for that
The stages of rap, ask these promoters these places is packed
Just killing time till that album drop
Slow it down, I dissed you
I said It's killing time when that album drop