Parental Discretion (feat. Busta Rhymes)

Aiyyo, I'm hard to talk to

If you live, I probably thought you stalked you

Where you walked to at night

Caught you then tried to extort you

New York niggaz is trigger happy, got Pataki scared

This town ain't big enough

For both of us and I ain't goin' nowhere

There it is, plain and simple

Like Jigga, my game is mental

While slow niggaz better know

I blow their brains out they temples

I'm into black magical torture

Romantic dramatical author, compatible with

The average New Yorker, a fast talker

Like Tony, when gas whores I'm the masked enforcer

Out for the cash and the cho-cha

Smash the coca, bottle it up watch the fiends, gobble it up

If I roll up, you do what? Swallow the stuff

I don't give a fuck anymore

I'm only twenty-four years old

And I've already broken every law

I'm horror core, this is for the heads

Runnin' up in your crib

Knot if you still hot in under the bed

Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes

Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide

Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny

Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey

Hey yo, my shit's the truth, 150 proof, no question

Parental discretion advised, keep out the eyes of the youth

It's too explicit, bullshit, I challenge the statistics

Violence existed before our music was even suggested

Arrested on sight, it's like there's no rights

That's why I rhyme so aggressive and bring every message to life

I fight the power spite the power the 90 percent

Keep 10 and feed twin, half for personal reasons

The seasons change, things rearrange, but I stay the same

Play the game for the wealth until I've made myself a name

So blame it all on the gangster rapper, thanks to Joey Crack

For the chance to do it my way like Frank Sinatra

I ain't a actor so it's all facts, strictly raw rap

Totally intended for yours dressed in all black

with the ski mask, or the pantyhose makin' cameos

in liquor store cameras with the twin Calico's

Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes

Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide

Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny

Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey

Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes

Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide

Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny

Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey

So forget the boom, one look, you shook, you know I'm stickin' you

Liftin' you off the ground, look down, that's where I'm puttin' you

Look in my eyes and remember me, how does it feel mentally

Havin' the enemy be the last thing you ever see?

The recipe is death and I'm the chef, fricaseein' your flesh

Be my guest, but I ain't cleanin' the mess

Me and TS, we testin' niggaz faith, just to see they face

Expression when destined to States, that death be in the case

I'm in the state of grace, in the hated race, by the pagan face

Couldn't fight us, made a virus, gave us AIDS

I paint the wake 'cause they ain't get me yet, wet me

Or reflect me yet, I know they comin' they just tryin' to let me sweat

I wreck it like when I was just a boy, eatin' chips, ahoy

Wasn't allowed to raise my voice, now I'm makin' noise

No more toys, strictly Mac's and missiles, shorties with forties

Packin' pistols catchin' bodies

Make sure we'll get you

So they say, I pray there's a better way

My kids don't do as I do, they do as I say

'Cause daddy don't play

Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes

Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide

Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny

Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey

Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes

Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide

Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny

Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey

Word is bond, one thing about MC's is that

We don't conceal the truth, we present real pictures

About the positive and the negative, so don't blame

The hip-hop when your seed is learnin' the real life from us

Do your duty at home and raise your child in the house

Parents, you don't do your job we gonna

Put your children to bed at nine o'clock

Past your bedtime, you get your ass in bed

You ain't 'posed to be hearin' this shit

Word up, punishment motherfuckers

By the Punisher and Busta Rhymes, hah

Terror squad, Flipmode squad niggaz