Down for the Count (feat. Rah Digga & Xzibit)

Yeah, check it out now (Uh, uh)

Rah Digga y'all, Dirty Harriet (Uh)

Kweli, Xzibit, new millenium! (C'mon, check it)

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Grimy bitch stomp the bogey outside your front door (Yeah)

Puffin' on Goodie, eatin' tuna and rye

Blow the spot with some old school shit from junior high (Hey!)

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Jersey's finest in the house, punchlines and metaphors

Make your foul ice grill, thug grimy on the real

Puttin' heads to bed like Hennessey and NyQuil

Convertible style, still had the heat knockin'

Bumpin' shit from way back with my man beatboxin'

Shootin' the breeze, see I'm nice with these

You'll be suckin' it down like fast food high-C's

Type of rap bitch that loves underground classics

Gettin' more green than that **** St. Patrick

Makin' wack rappers go and merc the set

Better off behind a desk tryin' to surf the net

'Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get added in

Worse than boric acid in your project cabinet

Dirty Harriet, increase the fanbases

Leavin' non-writin' cats stuck on the plantations

Mini-skirts with tights, eatin' lunch with whites

Lead the party over here like they Israelites

Got Cali, Brook, Briddicks, Rah, Kwe', Xzibit

Gonna lock shit down like you can't get no visits

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Rock the whole world like the Rolling Stone tour (Ah-ah)

Raw your wack set is faker than a bomb threat

By a nervous terrorist who's so scared that his palms wet

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The stuff legends are made of, urban folklore

Like Jim Morrison, we break on through

Before I care about your take on me, we take on you

Yo, yo, yo

We bring it straight to your face from the start, yo

Rage Against the Machine, break it apart

Might be over your head, but it's straight from the heart

I show my love in the light while y'all hate in the dark

Straight to apocalypse is where I'm takin' the art

Givin' **** battle scars, always makin' my mark

You fakin' the part of gangster, till **** break in your spot

You straight bitch, whether I say it or not

Shit is hot, spittin' flames on the track

Put our town's names on the map

From now until we fadin' to black

Where we at? Thug rebels love metal clubs ghetto

When the slugs let go like Frankie Beverly

Forever we stack notes like the treasury, flow heavenly

Get you high on speech laced with obscenity

**** be gassed like Cipha Sounds, and need rescue remedy

Then fall the fuck off like limbs affected with leprosy

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Why the fuck can't MC's MC no more?

Hardcore till somebody put me under the ground

With a dick in your ear, still couldn't fuck with my sound

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Takin' me straight to the weed spot, then to the liquor sto'

"Gimme Some Mo'" like Busta Bus', who do you trust?

Swingin' through, your favorite neighborhood lush

I'm i-rate, usin' your body for live bait

Xzibit rockin' them heavy gems you can't take

Dilate, cock back the weight, spread hate

Heavy metal we settle and set shit straight

Hit gates in my younger days, from the policeman

Me and my clan used to dance thicker than quicksand

Supply and demand the hand is quicker than the eye

Find some chickens to fry, while you find it hard to stick to your lie

I see through the tricks, destroy the facade

Your little lungs is too weak to hotbox with God

Rah Digga, First Lady of the Flipmode Squad

Gotta be hard like a young **** walkin' the yard

For the first time, we ain't the **** you let shine

Expect mines to blow lines like coke everytime

I'm an Alkaholik **** so I finish the fifth

You at the front door bitchin' because you ain't on the list

Like

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Yeah (Oh) hehehe (Aight y'all, aight y'all)

Yeah (Here we go)

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