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Artist: The L.O.X.
Album:  Money, Power, and Respect
Song:   Not to be Fucked With
Typed by:

Another small town cat with a million dollar fetish
Learned my first lesson in jail from a peasant
Always seem pleasant
Happy to be present
Said he past due, shouldn't have been in the essence
Streets is like your girl, treat it like your wife
You can flirt around with drugs, but don't hit the pipe
You can mess around with guns but death ain't right
Hold your breath, next step, cause life ain't right
If you with the wrong cats then your cyph ain't tight
Styles hit the darkside, show them the light
Life ended to the ice that freezes MC's
Friend of the flame, burn 'em in one game
Tell oxygen he ain't hoppin in
He a little time nigga, I ain't thinking of stoppin him
Catch up first, you stretch up worse than them
Been experts and done less work than them
With no album, we net worth more than them
These cats didn't think that The L.O.X. could do it
I got a hundred different styles and they all congruent
I'm the ghost of this shit, I provide you fluid
That'll crack sidewalks and rise the sewers
You got some fly shit, but my shit
is like the whole city fallin out the sky bitch
Loud crash, I'm the quiet loud ass
Quick to set it off on your fuckin foul ass
Make six digits eight and cop a palace
Make every rapper sick and call me malace
Y'all niggas never know what the Styles have
Some shit in the stash that would crack a cow's back
In a hundred pieces in they ass, and how's that?
Never answer back, I'm the cancer on the track
Just think, I could blink, and make the Pink Panther black

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
[Jada] Who's not to be fucked with?
[S.P.] That's me
[Jada] Who's to be fucked with?
[S.P.] That's them
[S.P.] Why don't you watch my back while I go ask them?
[Jada] And if they want beef later on I splash them
[S.P.] And if they want to flow, right now I thrash them
[S.P.] Should I give it to them new style or old fashion

Do I have to break down the walls, stay off the floor
I'm the general dog, I start the war
Make every MC never spit again when I leave 'em empty
No guts, no chest, no brain, no game
Styles go broke, I'm a rob the folk train
I feel no pain, steal cocaine
Fuck black thugs that run through whole gangs
Anytime that I want it nigga, better listen
Blunt is the magic wand, I'm the magician
Styles is the virus, ain't no physician
With an anecdote that can stop my collision
Before you start askin, I'ma start splashin
When I come through, it's like ten planes crashin
Twenty ships, full of thugs, all of them is bastards
Mashed up, looking through binocs, about to crash in
What's the next issue? Shit get offical
Call Steven Spielberg, cop skin tissue
So you could rock disguise when feds come and get you
Next question is where NASA at?
We need a hundred jeeps that fly when traffic's packed
Bustin down on the crabs with plasma gats
tell you right now you can't fuck with Pinero
I make a lot of space when it seem real narrow
Sagitarrius style, spittin out arrows
Hundred at a time, killin a hundred heroes