ghetto symphony
Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit shit
Yeah
We got my nigga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherfucker
Mystikal up in this bitch
Goldie Loc, hm-hmm
My nephew Silkk the Shocker
Oh, yeah, we got something for the ladies too
Mia X, run this bitch
Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator (For sure)
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler, I'm
Mother (Mia!) of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerilla millionaires, so don't even ask, if you wanna
Get to clappin, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
Some of y'all niggas talk shit and get mad
Cause we did it with a foot up your ass, and it's still there (Sho!)
I cares not about your click or the block
I'm still that same bitch to run up in your spot and knock you off
Broad, with the cause, (yeah) bitch on a mission (Uh-huh)
Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick-kissing
Missin the game, damn bitch it's written in plain ebonics
So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge
Mia X (Mama Mia!), kickin off the ghetto symphony
Next soldier up, tell em who the FUCK you be
WHUT? It's Fiend y'all
Put me in the ring with real MC's, and watch em run for cover
And hidin in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on
Bleed on, exceed on!
Weak rappers with titles after twelve (Ding!)
Hit a bell that's what I'll feed on!
Microphone Don, walkin flesh, talkin bomb
Bringin harm, to the calm, and, come be alarmed
It's the African, oh, you wanna battle again?
I'll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans
Oh, damn! Toting two pistols like Yosemite Sam
Oh, man, he grand! Loud as the Southern band
Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can
I would be the man, but God beat me to them plans
Next up, on the M-I-C
C-Murder, get busy for the symphony
I be's that nigga on the tank, always trippin never slippin (Never)
Have you reminiscin and missin, that fool in your picture
Call me Bossalini BITCH without the Mos at shows
And FUCK those who oppose (Why?) we runnin them hoes (Bitch!)
Three-hundred and sixty-five motherfuckin days a year
I have your fool staggerin just like a bottle of beer (Bottle of beer)
You niggas runnin from the cops, well I ain't runnin no mo' (Bitch!)
I flip the bird when I swerve, man, FUCK them hoes
I'm crazy, my nagga, but uh, I thought y'all knew that (Shiiiit)
Oh you ain't see the news? Shit I'm the nigga with the TRU tat
Ask my nigga Kenoe, shit, I just don't give a fuck (Fuck)
And if you run up wrong (What?) I'mma fuck you up, you bitch you
Next up, on the M-I-C
Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony
Uh-uh, uh-uh-uh
Now would I come this far, fucker, if I didn't sound like a hit?
Y'all didn't know what the fuck y'all thinkin bout
You sound like a bitch (Biaatch!)
Shit it sound like a wish
You know when you got a motherfuckin hit? (When?)
Bitch? When it sound like this! (Hahaha)
Or you fake niggas get enough heart
And try to bust a rhyme at this clip
Fuck around and miss, then fuck around and get found in a ditch
Got labels on my dome, when they find I gross this much
Freestyle shit, you can tell em I ain't wrote this stuff
Silkk the Shocker, KLC, purple mask life, like Snoop and Dre nigga
Y'all can relay it to a label ten times
Get a label contract for MJ figures
It ain't where you from; it's where the FUCK YOU AT
N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I'm fucking with that!
Next up, on the M-I-C
Mystikal, get busy on the symphony
Errerrhrhrh!!
WHOO SHIT MOTHERFUCKER GOD DAMN!!
I keep it HYYYYYYPE, BITCH I'm THE MAN!
When the FUCK you ever heard somebody say
That they don't sing my song
Or that I don't roll on every fuckin verse I'm rapping on
(That nigga Mystikal tighter than a muh'fucker) HAHHHHH?
I came up off of "Peter Piper" bells and the LL's "Bad"
These niggas be pissed off at me
Cause their old lady call me they baby
MC's pilin up and crowdin up, but I'm their FAVORITE
The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC
And chop you in your motherfuckin face (HIII-YAH)
Your album ain't tight, WHAT IN THE FUCK IS YOU PUSHIN?
You played out just like old woman pussy
Ewwwwh!
Next up, on the M-I-C
Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony
Now watch me put these haters to the test (Test)
Accumulatin with my stress (Stress)
Fold em fuck em fifty, get the shit up off my chest (Chest)
Releasin anger, all natural gangsta energy (Energy)
Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House gang
Motherfuckers better start backin up (What up, what up)
We in the Tank punk busters
Motherfuckers don't wanna see us loc'd up (AHH!)
Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thang
Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gangbang
Last up, I believe that's me
Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony
This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics
That thought I wasn't coming out with some exquisite rhymes
But that's okay, cause now I'm back (Uh-huh)
To kill all the rumors (Say what?), and straighten the facts
Like umm, doin bad (What?), gettin ganked for my bank
Now you all on my dick when you see I'm a TRU Tank Dogg (Haha)
You say, "Mmmm-mmm-mmm! Ain't that somethin
Dogg, I bought yo' album, my nigga, that shit is bumping
I apologize (I'm sorry), I'm sorry for the drama
Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?" (Sheeeiit)
Shit, I'm setting it off, letting it off, busting (busting)
Hustling (hustling), rushing (rushing), dusting motherfuckers ('Sup?)
Droppin the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to
I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?
Top of the line, first class (First class)
I pop a cap in yo' ass, then pop some Mo' in the glass
Too legit to quit (Yeah), I'm spittin gangsta shit (Haha!)
Man, fuck all that yapping (yeah)
We 'bout that gun clapping (Shhh!)
No Limit, yeah, that's what's happenin
No Limit, No Limit, No LImit, No Limit
Fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clappin (No Limit)
Yeah, in the real world, talk is cheap
Actions speak louder than words
No Limit Records, here to protect and serve