Artist: Ruthless Bastardz Album: Too Raw for Radio Song: November 1st Typed by: Cno Evil [Chorus: Apocalipps] What would you do? When the corn try to play you on the song But in real life, he don't really wanna get it on What would you do? Stay calm, I got the two-two long This nigga way out of his league, one shot then he gone What would you do? Jealousy is a muthafucka, boy But you paying no attention, cuz you gotta move on What would you do? It's only right, that I come with the bomb and Hand it to your moms, cuz the streets wanna respond [Iron Mic] All you indy copied thugs, turn your batteries off You don't wanna battle me, I guarantee you a loss Face casualty, we rapidly, flaming the torch Fuck the happy songs, I write my shit hard to the core Iron Mic ain't no battle rapper (what you are?) I'm a Ruthless Bastard, I run up on you and clap ya Usely when it's drama, we bringing heat to the niggas But he don't want it, so we just gon' eat to the nigga And like I said, we don't the hammer, for what Illiterate rap nigga, I'm gon' teach ya some grammar Watch what comes out ya mouth, we gon' teach ya some manners I know how to fight, but I'm quick to cut, scoop me, and slam ya And any other nigga would of dead, so just cuz you still living Muthafucka, don't let it go to ya head You don't want drama, you don't don't wanna go to the lead You'd rather, get on tracks and make 'em lodge instead And nope, I'm not gonna speak your name, and not cuz I'm scared, nigga It's cuz I rarely speak on lames But I'mma tell ya mines, it's Iron, nigga You will never be Ruthless, stop trying nigga [Chorus] [Beno] Hurry to get to cutting, my gun get to bucking I'm always into something, even when I'm into nothing They don't want no beef, they wanna eat they teeth They wanna keep it peace, niggas see us in the streets I'm in the booth, no vest, no gun But when I'm vexed, son, I suggest you run Lesson one, niggas don't fuck with Beno Lesson two, still don't wanna fuck with Beno Cuz I stomp niggas out like Joe Pesci in Casino You can catch me out arena, put the pressure out on 'dino I'm bad, but I ain't no Michael Jackson But the mack I'm clapping, nigga, have you gasping [Truck] Yo, I dare this nigga say my name, they gon' find ya little Clown ass chopped up, back of the range I got a up north, hunt rifle, use it for range You try to pop off, I use this to knock off lames I would of got at you sooner, Lipps told me don't spaz out Cuz you the type to get drunk, talk shit, passed out Stop lying in you rhymes, nigga, spit the true facts out How we thrash MC's who bring the macks out Brought them cameras and them tapes to the hood And all you bitch ass ever did was just hate in the hood We shitting on you, when your peoples just bopping they head I signed to a record label that'll pop off ya head It's Truck, and I'mma rhyme until my casket dumping Ruthless Bastarz and we smashing pumpkins [Chorus] [Apocalipps] When you trying to bring the ring back home And faggot niggas throwing eggs at the throne Stupid, yea, bitch, I'm back in ya ass Black burner on my waist, use it to back up ya staff And ya'll niggas is starving, but coming at Lipps Is not the answer, I eat ya insides up like cancer The first time I let you slide, you made a little bit of money Off my name, with them lies The Bastardz was gon' clap at your house Instead I'mma, stomp out ya tongue and sow it back to ya mouth You'se a clown ass nigga, get off my dick You'se a stan, matter fact, yo, you worse than my bitch But you know my gun'll flip a bird, wordplay Flip a verb, straight flip on a nigga, and pick a herb I'mma use you as a fucking example, and kill you Ya family, and them niggas that claims ya samples And duke who made ya beats, I'm smacking them up And press them lames that's pressing all that wack shit up I'm a leader, you a follower, I bang for New York And we can get it on in broad day like Gangs of New York Your ice grill costume is hot, but I ain't scared You forgot, Halloween is one day of the year Wack ass raps sounding like a broken language I'mma break up them broke ass niggas you hang with Your manager must of gassed you up, he wanna see me blast you up And you hang with that faggot fuck Don't ever try to play me on wax, I pop off the lead Pop Ya Head Off Records, nigga, pop off your head Apocalipps, you see me when you sleep, and inspired All ya little niggas, to get them CD's with the beats This is Ramadan, muthafucka, ya'll can't eat And you can't be a whore, cuz you trick and you treat You'd ride anybody dick just to be on they team You restricted, don't ever scream 418, bitch