{*scratched: "What? You wanna battle
ME?"*} {*scratched: "Yo man, how much
money you got?"*} {*scratched: "What?
You wanna battle ME?"*} {*scratched: "Yo
man, how much money you got?"*}

Guru
I used to guzzle 40's, and own a beat up Caddy
Since the hood still love me, I'll turn the heat
up daddy I went from mackin fly honies on the
train to straight relaxin on the beach, countin
money gettin brain Soon as you rappers get a
chance you wanna floss a lot You buy a iced out
watch because it cost a lot Then you in the club,
stylin with dough Profilin with hoes that we
boned, a while ago You rookies haven't done enough
laps around the track You had one hot single, but
then your album sounds wack Son you bore me with
your war stories You ain't even do that shit, so
that's just more stories How you expect us to take
you seriously? The look in my eye punk, has got
you scared of me I'm blastin your sons, I'm
snatchin your funds You catch a royal ass-whoopin,
you've been askin for one

{*scratched: "I'm bout to slap rappers around
and bruise the game"*} "What..
what?" {*scratch: "We thorough to the
end"*} "Yo man.." "You know
the drill" {*scratched: "I'm bout to
slap rappers around and bruise the game"*}
"What.. what?" {*scratch: "You
wanna battle me?"*} "Yo man.."
"How much money you got?"

Guru
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/WGUBitch you don't even know, the half about me I
bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff
about me I'm just a little bit older, plus a whole
lot wiser I might advise ya, or I might pulverize
ya I can visit any city, get respect in the street
While you alone in your room, shook to death of
the streets I'll take a second to speak, I keep my
weapon in reach I ain't talkin romance but you'll
get swept off your feet I keeps a ghetto chick,
that loves to blast and she peddle shit Groupies
fake moves, I get her to settle shit You can't
compare to the status right here Legendary
worldwide, we can battle right here Listen junior,
I'ma tear back your wig This ain't TV but I'll
show you what a "Fear Factor" is Stop
grillin me, and all that frontin is killin me You
leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings G

{*scratched: "I'm bout to slap rappers around
and bruise the game"*} "What..
what?" {*scratch: "You wanna battle
me?"*} "Yo man.." "How much
money you got?" "What.. what?"
{*scratch: "We thorough to the end"*}
"Yo man.." "You know the
drill" {*scratched: "I'm bout to slap
rappers around and bruise the game"*}
{*scratched: "I'm bout to slap rappers around
and bruise the game"*} {*scratch: "We
thorough to the end"*} {*scratched: "I'm
bout to slap rappers around"*} "You know
the drill" {*scratch: "We thorough to
the end"*} {*scratched: "I'm bout to
slap rappers around and bruise the game"*}
"You know the drill"