Artist: U-God f/ Necro Album: Take 'em Home (S) Song: Take 'em Home Typed by: pneumatic [U-God] Yo, Yo Yo Yo Yall know me, I got the sick talk Other MCs is phony, They just a rip off Boulders on my shoulders daily, Gotta chip on Hand on my steel for real, Get my grip on Exercise daily baby, Get my dip on Big bone niggas see me, On the flip phone Hydro home grown stone, In my slip ons Write hood songs with them heavyweight bosses Honey with the hips put her lips on my sausage Paint a portrait, Then I pray at the alter Then I shake the ground, I'ma pound your recorder Every time I slaughter, Bring back the coast The raw un-cut, Fuck the lactose I don't slack off, No, He not a rookie It's fucked up what Schwarzenegger did to Tookie Off to a slow start, Look how long it took me [Necro] Smack you in your face, Knuckle you jooks, You buck at Judaism Many different ways I could snuff you, Who the fuck are you We all bleed, Flesh is soft, When a sharp blade hits To say this, Rep it, I'm decrepit, Lets see ??? this (Bitch) Necro cuts clits, Off with scissors I fuck tits with my dick, Scorin like Fabio Frizzy Music in gore flicks, I'm rippin your chain Stick an ice pick in your brain, My shit is insane The brutal is verbal murder, Sever cerebrums like a sledge hammer Smash in your face, You heard it, I meant it, I mean it Demented, Obscene, Should invent to get your feet cemented in blocks And dropped over a bridge, Until your spleen's fermented Danglin a custom neglejay, In front of a bitch's face Hypnotizin, I'm makin her give me brain Treat bitches like the piece of shits that they are, (Yo) You'll wind up deceased bitch, If you don't pull them tits out your bra [U-God] I know your repetiteur, Psycho Logic on the disk My heart piece is poundin, I'm mobbin with the lynch We like Batman and Robin, We hopin off the bench My hand piece is throbbin, To bang 'em with the wrench I burn 'em to a crisp, When I turn into the Grinch Cool down your jet baby, Wet 'em till he's drenched If it don't make dollars, It don't make sense If it don't politic, We don't break bread The underground flava, Will wig heads Yeah U-God and Necro, The eagles is screamin Silver back gorillas, In bulletproof BMs Get the fuck outta dodge, Let's blow this mausoleum [Necro] I got a big posse of kids that will dead you for me I earnt that through respect, Loyalty, And integrity Street royalty, Brooklyn and Staten will fuck you up Psycho Logical Wu-Tang, Necro and U-God in the cut My catalog is cryls, The death funk is robust I keep my shit dirty like bums, And Dunkin' Donuts Verse after verse, We don't bother with a chorus We're gonna make a million, And have your father workin for us