(Twista) Yeah, you know what's about to go down right?
(Twista) Gotta let 'em know who is this...
(Twista) and who else nigga...?
(Ludacris) Twista... nigga,
(Twista) Uh, uh,
Sometimes I think that I gotta see a little bit of brighter days,
'Cuz I confine myself to a city near you in a solid cage,
And you can look to tha left and tha right but I'm trapped on center stage,
And I can rap to tha' beat but I don't know how to change my ways,
I still hear a fool and I'll track 'em, distract 'em, and wack 'em,
Jackin' a nigga for tha DAME OF DAMES and I'll (yack?) 'em, attack 'em, and sack 'em,
Get a weapon and I crack his brain 'cuz I'm a hustler, baller, pro,
And it wouldn't be right for me to be around busters and crawlers and hoes,
But I'm a pimp at night so talk shit and Im'a lift 'em up off they toes,
Wit' a streetsweeper, regulatin' quarters, and keys, and O's,
In tha' two-seater, Ludacris and Twister with tha' bags of 'dro,
Smokin', chokin', get em open, croakin' its so potent, I'm hopin' to keep on floatin',
I'm soakin' wet and you can bet, people I'm high,
I'm seein' lions and tigers and bears... "Oh my"...
And I can't hide it or keep it hidden, good riddance I'm feelin' good,
I'm weapon concealin stealin my neighbor... hood,
Would it, could it, should break a nigga off,
They'll see you later, go to tha doctor, hold my balls and (cough, cough),
You caught tha' vapers and I caught tha' throne, brain blown, honey I'm home,
Give me tha' microphone and fool's is like "Leave me alone!"
Throw it up, if you get high, get blowed, get drunk,
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it, let's ride, smoke 'dro, beat tha' trunk,
All tha bad ass bitches that wanna party just shake it while players get buck,
Me and my thugs and hustlers in tha party get money, fuck hoes, get crunk...
Look out I put a little bit of hash as the motherfuckin' purple haze,
I feel it all over my body, adrenaline wit' tha Bacardi, got me off fifty rippin' shit in a rage,
In a navy blue Pelle he 'bout tha belly, Coogie Timbalands steppin' on the pedal up in the Llac truck,
Wanna get me for the wood, better get the whole motherfuckin' hood to come and give you some back up,
We can get into it if you wanna do it, I'm to get my fluid out at them bodies that wanna come at this,
Empty out, fuck wit' yo girl for fuckin' wit' thugs, that'll bury opposites bet it won on the Twist,
Represent for my city anybody that differs wit' me got into thinkin' it's a game,
And whether you from my city and "I", talk shit I'ma kill 'em, especially if he say my name,
I bend up on 'em, I handle by business on 'em and stick him up for tha skrilla,
From K-Tilla... Smokin' on a fat pilla...
Murder haters at no filla... Niggas came and they wanna bring up a real adobe killa,
Ballin' out so hard, tha size of my rims roll to a hella-fast ice scene...
When they don't make 'em no bigger, Im'a flip a drop Vet 2000 and 3 on nineteens...
When ballin' outta control I floss on, flame on, pimp on...
A speed demon, pedal to tha metal when I'm in the zone, hang on, 'cuz him gon'...
In the motherfuckin' wind while I'm sippin' on Hen, I got cake while you owe somethin',
And I done came a long way from lettin' these hoes suck, I'm 'bout to roll somethin',
Found a victim I fill him wit' venom plus some adrenaline, kill 'em and send him to the cemetary,
Wit' a flow full of horror like a poltergiest, he called to Christ, when he saw how many men I buried,
(Shit...) And when it come to cheefin' good, nigga who that? Do that, I got tha sack open,
And tha herb got the flow so strong that I might crack tha track, while back-to-back smokin',
Never come up when the mobs elite, nigga you ain't untouchable not when I spark the heat,
Comin' at you like sharks to meat, the blood start to leak,
I can tell when a mark's heart is weak, come at me fully loaded 'cuz I'm hard to beat,
Always screamin' where tha drink and tha 'dro at, you know we love that cutta,
In the back of tha club wit' purple and the black chronic, Twist and Ludacris get fucked up...
Pass me the ______ let me smoke my ______...
This is a Wildstyle production...
Twist and Ludacris collabo...
Get it, get it, get it...
Autor(es): C.C. Mitchell