Artist: Proof Album: I Miss the Hip Hop Shop Song: Ja in a Bra Typed by: firstname.lastname@example.org * * send corrections to the typist [Ja Rule Sample] Its murdaaa... hahaha...its murda.. We back up in this motherfucker!!! Its murda... yall know who we be (ayo don't let me catch you!!) R.U.L.E... my nigga Fatal on my 1s, 2s, holla back you bitch ass niggaz!! Yo, yo, motherfuckin cocksucker If y'all havnt heard yet that nigga loose change is loose And I got proof, get it, I got proof.. *beat changes* [Intro - Proof] WOOF!! You know my name, its like this..PROOF!!! D12 shitnotes! Its war now! Lets man up! (WOOF) No prisoners! No casualties! All my riders lets ride then! CMON! (WOOF) [Verse 1] Word on the street is that I murda this Inc Get whacked with the hands not deservin the heatin There's nerves in this beef To Irv and his peeps: I ain't rappin no mo' I speak through the curves in the streets Ya hit's, man, is weak Ya did a poor job, that midget Cookie Monster be hangin' from a door knob Ya lucky I don't like touchin women And don't like no peace, talk somethin' with Russel Simons, (WOOF) Got the right connections My perception, ya know, would be beefin, ya life is definatly gone The ?? singin' at least the Woof of rap You'll need more than a Bush attack, don't push me back! (WOOF) You think it's just 50 and Sha, listen up Ja, no kids in the lobby in Detroit city wishin you DIE! I know you just wanna rap and be Pac, but before its said and done you gon' see PAC! (WOOF) [Hook] Yall don't want war, y'all want talk In the dark my dogs all bark like WOOF! PROOF, nigga, I'ma WOOF Now you all SHOOK I'ma about to getcha brain pushed BACK! [Verse 2] CHRIS GOTTI!! This nigga had the nerve to have ten niggaz sneak me just to get wit me I'm only 160 and the fact is I murder niggaz, DJs, and kittens I only walk out with scratches, wearin a Rolex shirt So if thats the streets, speakin ya dress don't hurt You cowards do something before we do ours I could write a Ja Rule album in two hours Bleedin dead on ya back, have ya pockets flat like Federal Tax and put ya head on the rack I'm so bad, the only thing good is death And L.A. G Unit posted and shook left, (ha, bitch!) I'm from Detroit with the hottest and hollas Niggaz like 'yall garbage, don't even bother', (haha) Plus ya overweight and gangstas is maddening 50 made Wanksta and the definition of wanksta is AINT TOUGH With pictures of Ja in a braw with a paint brush, paintin his war marks I'm losin my patience It ain't just D12 and Obie, homey, cancel ya shows and show respect like ya know me, (hehe) It zones and its hailin a jet 911 style: to ya face to ya chest 911 style: to ya face to ya chest It's over, nigga, gettin wet on the set, BLAU!!! [Hook] x2 [Outro] Haha! I ain't even talkin no more! I can't believe my nig can write yo whole ass out, nigga! Whatcha talkin about 'that we gave ya the proof!' You scared to come in that club, nigga! You ain't got shit! I'ma tell you like this: Black Child, Chris Gotti, I'm on that ass! Cmon! See! You niggaz wanna be street niggaz! Who would you wanna recruit? Cause I'ma murd' all you soldiers and recruit ya bosses when this over! Big Proof! D12! Only a one sixty-three! I left out with scratches, nigga! Wait till y'all niggaz come to the D! Yeah, I'm goin to New York! I just love Summer Jams! I'll be back fuckin with ya bitch! A'yo, Cookie Monster: come get me, nigga! Old ass nigga! *laughs* *beat stops* Now don't make me write some real shit, nigga!