[Royce Da 5'9]n(Yeah) So you talkin about me so you can get knownn'Til the .9's is out flyin out with the split bonesnI learned you just talkin, it's just a songnYour words will not turn to sticks and stonenDon't worry about murder my mob won't do itnOnly worries is worryin how I'm gon' do itnThat mouth you got, it'll create yo' hypenAnd you might wanna watch it cause it could save yo' lifenn[Chorus: Royce]nI don't mess with what I can't leave in less than thirty secondsnYou will rest in a box in back of a hearse if I feel threatenednYou got your vest on but I don't know why cause my AK say it's just a shirtnYou be bench-pressin the earth and not blastin or askin questions, firstnn[Royce Da 5'9]nYeah.. c'mon, yeah.. M.I.C...nOf all I'm a gangsta, the album is scarynI'm Malcolm, I'll get down if necessary (necessary)nBy any means - in which nyou breathe in the mic is the reason you left with a skinny teamnThis .9 rings, settin 'em straightnThe rest, I'll show 'em what the five fingers said to the facenIf, act hard and you will head for the GatesnAnd I don't mean the one in your backyard; I'm talkin PearlynChristians call it sinnin (yeah) Muslims call it winninnand witnesses call me worldly (worldly)nThis life is full of the type of nigga that'll pull out a gun or a knifenDo it and run off in the nightnWe specialize in the truest to ever ridenYou slip you lose your life, you blew it like a breathilizernAsbestos flames come out of his mouth, he a ridernThe next best thing to the Mafia and my motto isnn[Chorus]nn[Royce - over Chorus]nYeah.. Rock Bottom nigga, yeahnT-Dot nigga, yeah, the M.I.C.nn[T-Dot]nSpittin real life from this shitnAK rifle with clips is chrome with the knife on the tipnOr two .9's sit right on my hip, that'll light up your stripnAnd if you drivin let 'em die in your whipnMoms cryin and shit, fuck talk, better duck the leadnCause them bullets poppin out the toaster like Wonder breadnRhyme with your Lex out, chief in ex' house beatennwhen I whip tecs out you stressed out bleedinnWife and kids get X'ed out evennKill stress out, catch 'em leavin while I'm in the next house squeezinnStop breathin when barettas be spittin, I never be missinnWe actin like the gun law never resistant (whoa)nSee I laugh when niggaz be stuntinnCause one flick of a button'll pop the stash and the triggers be thumpinnDumpin niggaz ain't killin right, dealers ain't dealin rightnFuck the mic, real life, this is what I'm feelin like (like)nn[Chorus]nn[Royce Da 5'9]nUhh.. D-Elite nigga, yeahnTre Little nigga, yeah, c'mon, yeahnnSo you talkin about me so you can get knownn'Til the .9's is out flyin out with the split bonesnI learned you just talkin, it's just a songnYour words will not turn to sticks and stonenDon't worry about murder my mob won't do itnOnly worries is worryin how I'm gon' do itnThat mouth you got, it'll create yo' hypenAnd you might wanna watch it cause it could save yo' lifenn[Tre Little]nYo, whatever homie, you can go and take that chain offnRespect the pistol, it's official, Little got them thangs outnI hang out at bars where shots ring out at carsnI game all your broads like, Ho, come with a star (c'mon)nE'rybody know me, well at least in the DnGotta be top three; Gordy, Zeke or menArrogant as a fuck, like Damn, I match my trucknGun and chain ain't tucked, you don't wanna run up (you don't want it)nYeah, it's just not worth it, I got stripes like a zebranMake you run like a cheetah, I don't mind if we meet upnYour neck a lil' froze, then let me turn the heat upnBurger and the beef up, I'm like Kain when I creep upnHold me down, run them sneakersnHomie I don't know your people, yeah I'm bout to fly my eagle mannAnd I don't care what y'all say in these streetsnWe deep, D-Elite'll Nyquil you to sleep, yeahnn[Chorus]nn[Royce: over Chorus]nYeah, uhh, yeahnYeah, yeah.. this that shit right here KnYeah, shooter music nigganWe call this shooter musicnn[T-Dot]nUh-huh, yeanRoyce fever nina, T-Dot rangenTre Little, Rock BottomnM.I.C., yeah