Face Off

Lyrics

[Billy Danze] Yo, a lot of people depend on me (strongly) I no longer wanna pursue situations wrongly They say that a man's life, gon' be what it's gon' be So I switched the game around, and now it's on me (You control your destiny) You niggas keep testin' me Like you want me to show you how messy a mess can be (You're still a bang-banger) One of Saratoga's finest But first involved, the 'tician denyin' law, making ya highness [???] (Yo Bill, what'd you stop for man, what'd you stop for? Teach 'em, tell 'em how you feel!) As I struggle to get my hands on a dollar today I think back about cats that have passed away That's why I feel more cursed than blessed And I wonder what in this world, more worse than stress I'm a mess with stress, though I present it with finesse Sometimes I feel as if my heart is comin' out my chest I smoke too many cigarettes, and the Remy won't Wash away the pain or get strain off my brain See it's the way, we, roll down here, stroll down here A shootout, is like a common cold out here That's why I sit back and I laugh at y'all When it's crunchtime on the frontline, I will blast at y'all I'm from Saratoga Avenue, I had to brawl! It's where I realized it's a cold world, after all You hear me talkin to y'all? I'm on some grown Danze shit (You'll be coming of age) My life is on a different page, able to tame my rage A little bit different from the first time I picked up a gauge A little bit different from the first time I stepped on a stage Take a look at me now – a born winner In a race against time, like Bruce Jenner A natural born sinner, can't nobody tame me, or change me (For no reason at all he's angry, he'll) kill again! {*beat changes*} [Lil' Fame] You are now tuned in to the Works Of Mart Take two steps back – it's gon' hurt you, pa! Who the fuck talkin' that they gon' hurt Jamal? This ain't no diamond-studded rapper, it's the lover-stutter-slapper Un-pretty type rapper, gritty type rapper Fo'-five semi-automatic pipe clapper With them O.G.'s in it, please don't get your shit twisted Like bamboo with no trees in it Fall back, motherfucker – you can't beat me It's the Womack, the extension of Danzini We came into the game with some change for train fare Two Phillies, a dime bag, and a forty ounce of beer Now look at him, they hittin' the scene slow Hoo-ridin' in hoopties, but I'm lookin mean, yo With a gangster lean though, big doggin' it With my chrome ten inch hubcaps, but I keep 'em clean doe I know the pros and cons so I married the game Now it's mommy's little boy left to carry the name I'm in the streets like a dope fiend with a shoppin' cart filled up with copper Who the fuck gon' stop Fame? Y'all niggas keep waiting 'til they pop Fame And hold your breath while you wait, bitch – I got game Niggas ain't feelin' the Fame, bitch? Stop dreamin' I'm the shit that felt good comin' out of my pop's semen Hit the streets and thug with me No matter how disgruntled you sound nigga, you can't fuck with me Too many dick-riders that's quick to go "blaow!" But look, bitch – I'ma let you know now: You fuckin' with thugs, what the fuck you think this was?! I'm what you want me to be, stop fuckin' with me Cause I'm a nigga of the Earth (Earth!), nigga of the sea (Sea!) Nigga of the sky and (Fire!!!), flame fire Why don't I-ah, dump back at your men? It's M.O.P. and we at it again, ah-heh! I ain't clappin' over your head I'mma make sure I pop somethin' through ya Givin' motherfuckers ulcers with lead Have your parents and the pastor huddled over your bed May the Lord be with you – game over, you're dead Motherfucker!