[Chorus] [ODB x4] "You got shot cuz you knocked knocked knocked Who's there, another motherfuckin hard rock"
[True/Sha] If you knock on my door, you better been there before Cuz for trespassin, you know I got the cure I sleep wit hot lead, and it'll be dawn 'fore dead I'll let my girl go 'fore my gun leaves my bed Every man want heaven, but no man want dead As the pope once said, 'fore the dred lost his head So I keep my door locked, my gun cold-cocked First nigga that knock, I'm lightin up the whole block Test me not if you don't want to get hot Cuz I have missing posters filled wit all you hard rocks And I suggest, if you don't want to get blessed Just remember to wear your bullet-proof vest
"You got shot cuz you not not not Who's there another mother" "BLAOW"
[Tariq/Breeze] It's showdown, brother high noon My soul questin like old Westerns The low down gonna die soon The True fake, you gonna fall to rock-bottom When my glock spot em, then for you snake you gonna crawl Crumblin, messin wit me, definitely humblin Mumblin mercy, thirsty I need to hear it I need your spirit decimated, desecrated my core up to the extreme Before you do your next scheme, deserve to leave you sufferin You gots to catch a payback, from her to me Your brother been your brother kid from way back Ain't no shame in your drama You will be feelin the heat from you stealin my beat Down to you gamin my mama Aimin a bomb to finish wit you, diminsh split you You done pushed me, shit I didn't even get to kill that pussy But now I'm bout to kill it, fill it, spill it on this pavement Your scream'll satisfy my Wes Craven/craving
[Chorus x2]
[Tariq/Breeze] Yo word is bond son, I'm sayin niggaz When I see that nigga, yo that's my word Shit is gonna be so real for that nigga Yo, I'm sayin
[True/Sha] My cream I protect, your dreams I respect My plan to hard rock shit be snappin at your neck I thirst for beef, hot lead spells relief So play your position, brave nigga I'm the chief And all that hard rock shit gon get you closer to redrum And reachin for your pistol, I can say that's quite dumb So leave it alone, you've been dethroned That's only if your black ass wanna make it home
[Tariq/Breeze] You're gettin carried away Wit pallbearers, twist you while I'm wettin That be the way it's all clear wit Mr. L Gone black, I'm tellin him you was plottin for cheddar To hell wit him, you forgotten Against my contract, we could do this like Judas Blast you wit your style, mastered it so foul Leave you clueless like "who this?" Carma caught you kid, I'm fuckin sicker than true lies I'ma scorch a nigga, comin thicker wit new rise It's hard to live, knowin that you doin the same Knowin about you and your game, let God forgive I won't see I don't give a fuck son I give a buck in gross earning, you eatin the heat in my toast burnin
"You got shot cuz you knocked knocked knocked Who's there another motherfuckin hard rock" "You got shot cuz you knocked knocked knocked Who's there another mother" [gun shots]
Compositores: Paul e. Huston (Paul Prince), Paul Anthony Smith, Anthony Jerome Lambert (Mixilplix) ECAD: Obra #4415219