[Girl whining on telephone]nn[Chorus: Planetary]nBe careful who you talk tonThe places that you walk throughnYou never know when somebody is creepin', tryin' to hawk younBetter grab your gat toon'cause niggaz will attack younAnd blast you, right behind your backn'cause the cash rulesnn[Crypt the Warchild and Planetary]nYonIndustry rule number four thousand and eighty:nRecord execs are made shady for gravynProtecting your neck can save you and save menWe step on the set, like fuck you, pay menGive 'em a chance, and they'll take food from your babiesnAnd stress you out, to drive a grown nigga crazynNow ain't that crazy? You ain't kiddin', mannThey run for cover when the shit really hit the fannThe snakes in the garden, pray on your downfallnAbondon shit, it's hazardous, and they can drown y'allnExploit your people with a image, they can clown y'allnThe voice of evil in your ear, you hear the sound, y'allnn[Chorus]nn[Planetary]nYonAin't nothin' worse than a sheisty bitchnShe'll take cream in your credit, the ice and the whipnYour life and your kids, you're flippin' your lidnKicked out the cribnA baby on the way, you don't know who's it isnIt might be yours, life on pause, nights on tournYou try to call the bitch, but she yappin' the jawnYou feel like smackin' the whorenShe contacted the lawnLike you never smacked her beforenWhy she actin' all raw?nn[Talking]nn[Planetary]nYonJust to clarify, I'm Planetary, I terrifynPrepare to die, dawg, but never trynI am the next millenium rappernGot you trembelin' after the shots blown from the stagenEvery sentence I master, nigganToxeeded, Philly to Chi-Town town even panics at the ground bleedingnWhen they hear the sound of demonsnI'm fiending this seed of blood dripping from heathensnThe reason underground and mainstream had a meetin'nI'm lookin for liquor to drink away the painnBut when the store close I cut my wrist and drink it from the veinsnThat's in me, Crypt, you you feel me?nA basket case, we take souls from their bodies, a blast of ??plates??nOn fire for real, and I retire my dealnIt don't matter, I still got wounds and I'm too tired to healnEvery rhyme is for real, and I'ma break these adamsnI've been spittin' since ninety one, you can't erase this passionnn[Crypt the Warchild]nYonI see this niggaz, think they big and they badnWhylin' out in the club and ??duck?? pissin' in bagsnAnd I ain't even got to use a clip or a magnI use a twelve inch blade to split shit when I'm madnLet you rot six days, 'til the stinkin' is badnLet my pen print rage when it sinks in the pad, homienSo get it right, I'm a murder machinenStampeded through the wilderness to murder your teamnCats bleedin' like I slit they wrist, burstin' their dreamsnGuaranteeing you'll be feelin' this, superb when I gleannI spit fire, homocidal, and there's no reasoningnGet drunk, bury the needle, killing season is innHeadhunt, buryin' people in this steep full of sinnI'm leatherface with a chainsaw, splittin' your chinnSo don't approach me with no lame talk, as simple as grimnUnless you like to see your frame choke again and again, niggann[Somebody talking]nNow that's what I'm talkin' about, mannMurder these motherfuckas, dawgnWe outta this bitch, man, meet me at the motherfuckin' bar