Biscuits

Yo, who the fuck brought me this chocolate shit, man?

I said a banana nutriment, man

Ya'll heard the fuck I said, I gave you.

I wrote it on the fuckin' paper, man

Ya'll muthafuckas always fuck around and forgettin' something and shit

Smart dumb niggaz and shit, runnin' around here and shit

Ya'll niggaz need to wisen up, man, yo

Fuck that special ed, shit

I said Big O, hydro-face, pass me the sazone, it's on

There go son, tap out the hash bone

Half moon, he rock, three's fourth quarter length

No jewels, no rocks, it's not worth the spotlight

His gun tool, was a half a hill

That's a six digit slip behind five sticks, eatin' steel, fuck him

We gon' we gon' get our money

If he front, they gon' read about the rocks in his tummy

Mouth was red, socks was bloody, fuck all the talkin'

Safety off and shit, crept out, "What up money? Freeze!"

Don't move, turn around, act like James Brown

And get down! Get slapped with the put down

Wasn't you the same clown? Uptown, yappin'

I keep big Shirley on my side, so What's Happenin'?

Try eatin' these shells, they non fattening

After you digest gat, I'ma stomp you bastards

So take that, blow, blaow! Ghost, he still breathing

Blow, blow! Anything after that it don't matter

Your homies and your close relatives

Even them nosy ass pigs'll get splattered

It's the TH-EO-DORE, send me to Iraq I come back with don heat

Teeth, less than a week, they be callin' me

Keep with the fists, 'cause I sure do cook when it's beef

Yo, what up? Meet, these, O.G.'s, quote these and

Baller' shit, long biscuits

Fuck around, take all your shit

Call your bluff, y'all faggots don't want no beef

Grind your teeth, and just, roll with it, don't risk it

Fuck around, and be a statistic

Yo, yo, niggaz ask why I use my glock

Cause it's 2003, motherfucker, I refuse to box

I'm true to block, strip you for your shoes and socks

Remove your watch, yo I'mma have to lose your top

I'm from a place where chunkheads and zombies dwell

And niggas keep they heat blazin' like laundry wells

Don't ever talk to a nigga like I'm one of your kids

Cause I'll cock back the mag and pop one in your ribs

So homeboy, keep runnin' your jibs, I'ma run in your crib

Pistol whip you right in front of your wiz

My nigga, that's how it is, I get it, just how I live

Cause me without a gun, is like Queens without the bridge

Classic cut, this is how a O.G. live

Lamp in village, and still get heard with no spins

This is Trife Diesel, New York's backbone, back home

Black blown, it's Theodore, nigga, fuck your wack stones

That's right, it's real!

It's that motherfuckin' Theodore Unit

Know what i mean? Staten Island, live shit, y'all

Straight up and down, nothin' but that cutthroat shit

Blowin' niggas back home, you know what I mean?

I don't give a fuck, we could take it there

Whatever, peace, we got him nigga

Yeah, now I'ma strangle it there

No doubt, it's real right now, motherfucker

Y'all niggas done done it, fuck y'all yeah

I'ma get the fuck outta this booth