(Royce Da 5'9") Yo Tre', you gon' spot me or what? Let the games begin Jah 5'9", where you at? Round one (CHI-CHI GOT THE LLELLO!) Yeah, real niggaz on the prowl, HOO! You's in the presence of wolves, let go your goods I smell your blood in my neck of the woods F**k around with us and get found on your neck in the woods Give him respect in his hood, don't mess with his crew Niggaz be, salty as pretzels when I'm in the Lex' and it's movin Invadin and steppin in my shoes is a definite intrusion I'm exceptionally cool, never expect to be under pressure or rescued, definitely only sweat in the BOOTH I'm officially f**kin you up with, nuttin but wit A blizzard is frozen, hidden under the clothin Listen, you lyrical nothin you, you touchin who? When it was wrote, you spit it, you thought you ripped it you loved it It's like, the sun is above us when the wrist is uncovered Like, all you gon' spit is blood or kick is the bucket Like 99 percent of you niggaz that rhyme SUCK! This is, the point of no return, I'm stuck (Tre' Little) Yo, yo you f**k-head niggaz ain't makin gangsta music I make music for gangstas, it's therapeudic You wild out to it, let the guns go too Spittin out, skeet out, smoke a blunt to it (ERRR!) Fake niggaz don't dare, it's too real Have you doin drive-bys on my command, NOW KILL! (UHH!) Go on, sniff the chi-chi, rock along with me It goes - guns, murder murder live in Rock City You knowwww - don't let you get beside yourself It's just a, terrible thing to just lose your health Look wrong, don't speak, just lose your wealth That's the truth baby boy - shhh, quiet as kept They games we play, official