Ass whoop all over the place, you can't hide behind
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
Like ass Miller, and that fuckin' ex dealer
From the lyrical, bitch made niggaz are invisible
(Hhh)
(Fuck them)
Like Jack did Jill, I rolled his ass down the hill
Like a hooker, suckin' a dick for the first time
Twelve punks to go, who's next on the list
Playin' with your mind, makin' you feel the force
One of these days your punk ass gonna go
Guess you had a key to figure the fuckin' flow
Reducin' numbers, makin' it hot like the summer
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
To the niggaz who got him treated, like royalty
A group that is simply
(That came in way)
(Follow)
Bitches go tell your troubles to Montel
So many fuckin' emcees claim supremacy
Had to cancel out, two punk niggaz up in the source
The physical, better run to the spiritual
That was sixteen men now there's no one left
And that punk who tried to dip into the squealer
He was rollin' big balla style, high profile
Beaten broken and coughin' and chokin' on the rhyme
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
No soul, no conscience, no loyalty
Now there's no men left
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
But I'm takin' on all comers, droppin' bombers
One who is solo, runnin' the whole game
Sixteen men now there's thirteen left
Who made him all the money to overcome?
(Bey)
Dysfunctional, hypocritical, smile in your face
Just marvelous, just marvelous
All smiles, right in my face, but wait a minute now
There were sixteen men
(The fuck in your brain)
There were sixteen men
(Bye bye)
Niggaz up on the hill, in the lab
On whose got hip hop locked, it could never be
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
Yo ho ho them niggaz gotta go
Sixteen men let me see who's next?
Sixteen men till there's no one left
Sixteen men now there's no one left
Publishers: HITS FROM DA BONG MUSIC, UNIVERSAL MUSIC - MGB SONGS
(Fuck them)
I take sixteen MC's, lock 'em in a room
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
Sixteen men on a dead man's list
You go down like Jerry, and get smacked
Yo ho ho them niggaz gotta go
Bust a nut, all in your mouth, and made him swallow
I'm trippin' on the people controllin' the airwaves
(Hhh)
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
You get bucked like C Tucker and Will Bennett
There was one particular fool in the circle who fell off
Watch them all by slow
Sixteen men now there's thirteen left
While I lied of the indo
Yo ho ho and a bag of indo
That's like Mike fuckin' with Poppa Joe Jackson
(Ohh)
Ladies and Gentlemen
Of everybody, you fucked over, you're scared sober
As I sit back and say, tally ho
Let me step, over the hump, and represent it
Trick Deez, gets no love, she gets nuts
Like Trick Leo, now here's your fuckin' eulogy o
Ass whoop critical, or you can get it
That's bullshit, like cops never sniffed Cocaine
Oh child, make me wanna act juvenile
Matter of fact I got one in my head to fix
(Hey, hey)
The fuckin' cynical shit brains
Sixteen men till there's no one left
Tried to get double XL, they still fell
Can't forget the nigga who was down with the hilla
Changed up to gain it all, but shared none
Pay a fee when you fuckin' your people over the cheese
Greed overcame the nigga who at all costs
But you're locked out, and the bombs about to blow
Welcome to the 360 degrees
This, one MC, he couldn't deal with the skill
(Wait a minute now)
(Big balla)
Cypress Hill}
(Hahahahaha)
Got it goin' on, you know it all, but God save
{Ladies and Gentlemen
Your ass for clashin' with the soul assassin'
Fuck the hater with the symbol and no soul
(Ohh)
(Pay)
Songwriters: Louis M. Freeze, Lawrence Muggerud
Make 'em feel the contact, eatin' the mushrooms
His, rhyme was hollow with no flow to follow
We would like to present to you
(Hahaha)
Aey yo time's up, you're gonna end up seein' visions
Sixteen men till there's no one left
And that bitch nigga who stole my car stereo
Sixteen men till there's no one left