[master p](talking)
Whats up niggas?
I told yall its about to be on, nigga
We drop shit anytime we want to huh
Fell this nigga
Its real (explosion)

[verse one]

Flippin the the game
Niggas that got that cane
Murder mr. dopeman still in this rap game
Its 1997, my niggas gone to heaven
Rest in peace 2pac from master p, doin 2-11s
187 khadafi, murder
Puttin niggas in six foot motherfuckin gurters
If you fuck with this tru clique
Nigga you gettin your wig spilt
Who run this gangster rap?
(no limit runnin this!)its bout to be it
187 khadafi
Jumpin on ghetto dope with these gangster topics
Still makin scrilla
Your neighborhood drug dealer
Ice cream slaingin
Tattooed up real nigga
In the rap game pushin quarters
Flippin the water, from texas to florida
Choppin game to the knuckleheads
And spittin voodoo on the motherfuckin chichenheads
Down south hustlin, to the west coast
Got nigga choppin game, I mean this rap shit in to dope
Puttin them in packages, independent spittin shit
Standing on stages with bullet-proof vestes, lookin for other cliques
But who gon be the next nigga to die in this rap game
Or drop a hit on the wrong man?
cause they talkin shit about other niggas
Now its a war zone, in this rap game

(chorus)
But they cant stop us tru niggas
They cant stop us tru niggas
They cant stop us tru niggas
They cant stop us tru niggas

[verse 2]
cause if yall kill one, theyll be a million other niggas in line
With ghetto dope, bustin ghetto rhymes yall
Running from the one time not mines
Posted up, hostin up like soldiers!
Down south huster, throwin bolders
Ready to block like a football player
Got these 17 rounds for yall haters
So jump on this ghetto shit and come get this wicked shit
And jump up on this rap game and watch a nigga spit
Killer, murder topics
Put my goals if yall think yall can stop it
Hardcore bangin, hangin slaingin
Nigga down for whatever thats why we bangin on wax
Into traps
Got beats by the pound like niggas slaingin sacks
In the hood, up to no good
Got niggas bout it, from baton rouge to st. louis
To cincinnati
Got niggas lined up in atlanta like addicts
Gotta have this gangster shit
This real shit
>from this motherfuckin tru clique
Aint givin up, living raw
And if we die, fuck it, sell my dro
To the next gangster nigga
Rest in peace easy-e., but Im out here makin scrilla!
So fuck yall white laws
And yall motherfuckin.....police cars!!
Comin through with gangsters and killers
Long like the motherfuckin drug dealer
97 to 2000 a.d. little kids wanna be me
cause Im bout it, Im rowdy
The government and the press, them motherfuckers want me outtie
For runnin my own shit
Niggas sellin their company like the slaves sold their souls to 30 cents
Break bread
Dont you know 15 percent of what you made?
You a sucker, a clucker
So stop rappin hardcore, you hip-hop motherfuckers
And stay true to the gizzame
Be about your paper, nigga fuck the fizzame
Third ward nigga, runnin the hill
It aint no limit to this gangster shit, blunt smokes and keepin it real

Yall cant stop us tru niggas
Yall cant stop us tru niggas
Yall cant stop us tru niggas
cause if yall kill one, theyll be a millon more tru niggas

[slikk the shocker]

Bitch it be slikk choppin and kickin shit like karate
Fast like a mazzeroti
Crime boss like john gotti
Look into their face, niggas afraid of me
Look deeper into their eyes, they scared, yeah yall busters scared of me
cause I flow like water
Run shit like ki-jana carter
Tell em, imma be there watch (? ? ? ) like the french quarter
Down for whatever
Bow down nigga never
Buck like a beretta
Wet you up like bad weather
Got fangs like a cobra
Now I got range like a rover
You dont fuck with us whether you fucked up like a hangover
From the city where busters lie
From the city where suckers die
Make way for p and silkk, two of the baddest motherfuckers alive
Bitch its your time
Bitch I want the whole nine
Bust one line, and make niggas change their whole rhyme
Im the shocker
Yeah, I got them
Its tru motherfuckers, and yall cant stop us
And its on

(explosion)