Who’s Fucking with This?

Lyrics

[Intro: Breez Evahflowin', C-Rayz Walz, and J.U.I.C.E.] C-Rayz Walz: C-Rayz took a dump in ya shrimp J.U.I.C.E.: J.U. Ill state. The city is mine Breez Evahflowin': Breez Evahflow-er, Strong Hold number four [Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz] Exhibit A: party people in the place to be/B Exist in the next level with me (Where?) in the place to see/C Basically, I bash a beast with his own billy club Boisterously battle bullets and bust slugs (On point) Porcupine hugs bug Meridians Bee hives bumble, boasting who's buzz is the busiest? (Y'all want it raw, dawg?) We'll give it to you skinned alive Stabbing your license, trying to kill your drive (Rayz will shine) And Juice will never evaporate Only distract MCs who are not from concentrate At a rapid rate, decapitate and penetrate Excited fans in the stands wave hands and hyperventilate Now it's too late to kick that rhyme you borrowed And I know why y'all can't spit—you already swallowed I battle and release my inner stress and I ain't finished yet Till your girl tosses my salad with balsamic vinaigrette [Hook: Breez Evahflowin', C-Rayz Walz, and J.U.I.C.E.] Who's fucking with this? No one, nowhere, nothing, never Only option you got to quit Who's fucking with this? Up in your bitch, got her sucking a dick Touching her tits, got style like a bucket of Cris' Who's fucking with this? Snuffing your hits, crushing your chips Leave you stuck in a desert with a bucket of piss Who's fucking with this? From the rifle or clip Spit sixteen quick that'll stifle your shit [Verse 2: Breez Evahflowin'] Yo, your rhymes I'm not feeling Fuck y'all fruits—I start peeling Pass jumping on the dick—y'all faggots is cartwheeling Street dreams, XXL tales from Hell We dwell within the trenches. Still, we prevail These niggas stale like buzzard food Shine for a time while we work the grind like "Who the fuck are you?" Ask somebody, put up your salary You probably got a neighbor somewhere who wanna battle me Brother, next of kin Black, white, Mexican I'm right here—let's begin Once again, Breez through the City of Winds You know, out for a piece of the pie like Shy Uno Mind defy. Who knows? What lines are thought Can score from half court in the rhyming sport Leave fans wide-eyed like Elijah Wood Underground like shit that's denied in the hood [Hook: Breez Evahflowin', C-Rayz Walz, and J.U.I.C.E.] Who's fucking with this? Fucking with me, Juice'll leave these niggas up in a tree Death costs—ain't nothing for free Who's fucking with this? You ain't fully equipped You a let down like a bitch with ass and no tits Who's fucking with this? Shuffling your lips like you smuggling bricks You a bitch, resort to cutting your wrists Who's fucking with this? Fucking with me, I'll do a whole record company, G I swear to God this is something to see [Verse 3: J.U.I.C.E.] Big Juice, Mid-west, got you buzzing to this Competition can't test 'cause it doesn't exist (No) Aye, and don't get me started 'cause I'm loving to diss Sober flow on some overthrow the government shit You sell an extra 50 thou' when I jump on a disc Okay, 25—I may be bluffing a bit Fucking with this, smoking weed, tucking a clip Terry bug, Carrie shrugs. Say something, I flip Still blazing trees when I'm up in a six Sick, C-Rayz and Breez—who fucking with this? (Nobody) Shit, I get around like ya compasses get And when I spit around my circumference is sick And I ain't finna give these fucking record companies shit Already killed my A & R and left him slumped in his whip So hot, the needles can't do nothing but skip I'm Juice—now what the fuck is niggas functioning with? [Hook: Breez Evahflowin', C-Rayz Walz, and J.U.I.C.E.] Who's fucking with this? You ain't repping your clique—you're reflecting the clit But we the question you be asking your bitch: Who's fucking with this? Nicer than niggas I can force ya to name It cost you your chains I did this mother off of the brain Who's fucking with this? Make way when we fitting to spit You acting top? Then prepare to get kicked from the tip Who's fucking with this? Put five in my grip, spitting lead—tell me who wanna sin Crash your six 'cause we bubbling sick