Got the Flava

Lyrics

[Hook] Show & A.G. got the flavas (The flavas) Rolling with the Dwellas and the neighbors (The neighbors) Show & A.G. got the flavas (The flavas) Rolling with the Dwellas and the neighbors (The neighbors) [Verse 1: D. Flow] Hey yo, no question, I'm the best in this rap business No doubt I'm strapped, get back or get clapped ridiculous, son I'm flippin' this one (Don't be dumb) You better run or end up like my last victim Shit that's real, I already been through Scared from the threats I sent you (It's all in the mental) Jackin' niggas like I'm in the Central Cuttin' through that ass like a Ginsu, as I commense to Get big with my nigs, A.G. & Showbiz Now your idol was doin' vital damage to your ribs Word, straight up and down, crab MCs get crushed I'll leave your style cramped, my crew can't be touched So when you hear the bomb, you know it's D. Flow, son No one can fuck around, yeah, that's right (No one) [Verse 2: Wali World] Ayo, the honeys on the dilz, 'cause I play ball good, it's all good I'm still representin' the hood Big shouts to Uncle Pete, you're my number one neighbor No doubt, I'm puffin' later with my nigga Gary Aida Peace to Roc Raida and all the goodfellas People gettin' jealous, well, it's the brothers (The brothers) On some other shit, can't forget Shabazz Representin', not to mention that I'm gettin' cash Get with that, or get with this, because I'm kickin' this With the styles, I'm runnin' through niggas like Emmitt Smith [Verse 3: Party Arty] Touchdown, I buck down MCs that step up 10 G's, if you want a MC wrecked up The Ghetto Dwellas in your hood, hoodie down Stomps from the Bronx, the boogie man from the Boogie Down Momma never told me there would be days like this That I'd be rippin' tracks, gettin' paid with my nigs On tour, roar with that hardcore stuff Niggas call bluffs (I give 'em no chance), I make it more rough (And even slow dance) on niggas faces, rugged, fuck it Them niggas got to love it, 'cause we made this I'm gettin' papers with my peeps As Party Arty keeps Bacardi, so MCs meet the shotty [Verse 4: A.G.] Check the method, but don't sweat the technique Even made the baddest dime bitches get weak when the vets speak (I'm hoping) That your head meets my bed sheets (Now you're open) Like the Red Sea, 'cause I'm potent Don't fit? Don't force it, Flow got that four-fifth Hoodoo with that voodoo, my doll, it's that cordless All this and that and then some Get paid to put raps on tracks, I guess that's my income The beat chills, so they be comin' back for refills (My man shows his street skills) From here to the Peekskills Kill the rumors, givin' MCs brain tumors Time to step off the set, gotta jet like Puma [Hook] Show & A.G. got the flavas (The flavas) Rolling with the Dwellas and the neighbors (The neighbors) Show & A.G. got the flavas (The flavas) Rolling with the Dwellas and the neighbors (The neighbors) Show & A.G. got the flavas (The flavas) Rolling with the Dwellas and the neighbors (The neighbors) Show & A.G. got the flavas (The flavas) Rolling with the Dwellas and the neighbors (The neighbors) [Verse 5: Method Man] What the blood clot Son, lick a shot, show your love in the area Forget me not, mass hysteria My style revolves around blunts, the Methical The one and only piece original, never phony One love to my muthafucker A.G.  A true giant in the industry, hold your shoes up [Outro: Method Man] (Fool, word to God, know what I'm saying?) Yeah Sha's going down, you know who got the flava (Got the flava, the flava) So bring it on, so bring it on All you motherfucking corns, yeah