The Slayers Club - R.A. The Rugged Man, Onyx, Brand Nubian

Yeah, when the devil come boy

The devil devil gon' come come smiling

Yo, what the fuck these niggas talking about, man?

Yo R.A., love you brother, yeah

Same script, who come up outta the fold for ya?

Liveness, still outta control for ya

We home team, we gon' roll for ya

Marksmen, put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, yeah, put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, yeah, creep up on 'em slow for ya

Long range, boom!

Let it go for ya

M.O.P., we put 'em in a hole for ya

This official pistol gang, Philly where we bang at

Pull up in the Bugatti and hit 'em where they hang at

There was no consideration where them bullets rang at

You was gettin' popped if you was hangin' where they slang at

Rugged Man is always wildin' out, boy trippin'

That’s what you get for thinkin' you live like an audition

Bullets coming out of the blue like they called Griffin

Fuel injector, funeral director, the mortician

Y’all better fall back or get jaws cracked

All facts, I go to your skull, y’all softer than ballsacks

Pause, but say my force is the Fourth Horsemen, I’m all that

Splatter your organs, spread it on walls and call it a Rorschach

Guess the image is a butterfly, my fist is lightning, rain and thunder

I can snuff a guy and make him wish his mother died

And break anatomy, chemically causing casualties

Endlessly blow your brains out or shatter your memories

The living god that is held at the highest regard

With more sick entries than Whitney Houston’s toxicology report

Who got top chart position in an image that’s tricking the children

With a little litter that’s some other bitter imbecile has written

But I’m spittin' raw voodoo

I saw through you like a woman in a wooden box

And I’m a magician, give you a face peel

Not the type you get from an aesthetician

I stomp your skull 'til it breaks with an ice skate

If y’all niggas is lit, then Chino’s burned at the stake

Same script, who come up outta the fold for ya?

Liveness, still outta control for ya

We home team, we gon' roll for ya

Marksmen, put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, yeah, put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, yeah, creep up on 'em slow for ya

Long range, boom!

Let it go for ya

M.O.P., we put 'em in a hole for ya

Strap the fuck up, I just came out a coma

You better buckle up, we running niggas over

If I ain’t throwin' shots, then I must’ve been sober

You ain’t smoking sticky-icky, one hit’ll choke ya

I’m sick with it, a mental patient psyche would admit it

Where crimes get committed and niggas get drug addicted

When niggas on Rikers be biddin', razors be getting spit in

Cut his face up, now he need stitches

I snatch purses, I piss in churches, I work the burners

In Lucifer’s furnace, sip the blood of a virgin out of a thermos

I gun buck 'em, fuck a fist, the Razor Ruddock cut a wrist

I cut 'em, gut 'em like a fish and let 'em lay in gutter piss

The bats, gats, battle ax make a back collapse

Slap a Democrat, pack a rat, smack crackers in MAGA hats

I rewind the time, put you in a dumpster aborted

I crush your skull into dust, chop it to powder and snort it

Bran-Br-Br-Brand Nubian (Once again!)

Br-Brand Nubian

Punks jump up to get beat down

I’ll throw you in a fuckin' trunk with your feet bound

Niggas want beef?

Get your meat ground

NYC, this not a sweet town

Hear the crack of the bones and let the streets run red

Have you shackled in your home with the gun to your head

This is personal, it ain’t shit about bread

Reversible skull when I’m splittin' that head

Same script, who come up outta the fold for ya?

Liveness, still outta control for ya

We home team, we gon' roll for ya

Marksmen, put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, yeah, put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, yeah, creep up on 'em slow for ya

Long range, boom!

Let it go for ya

M.O.P., we put 'em in a hole for ya

Yeah, Iceberg, nigga

The Rugged Man made the call, I’m here

My niggas ain’t Bloods, they straight Crippin'

My niggas ain’t cool, they set trippin'

Thought it was a game, 'til you felt that hot lead

My gats ain’t semi, they belt fed

Pop up at ya motherfuckin' crib like god damn

Found out where you lived on your Instagram

25 cops at the crime scene

My niggas crash your pad like a SEAL Team

Burn motherfucker, one syllable Ice

More whips than The Passion of Christ

Blam-bong, blam-bong, blood lies and alibis

Tell his mama reply before this turn into a homicide

Nigga, ante up the ransom (Come on!)

Tell that bitch to hurry up before I blam son

('Cause we) Do it all day (We) do it the hard way

(We) Do it the Brook-nam way, I’m talkin' broad day

(We) We be the M.O.

(M.O.) MO-Ps

You already know my M.O.

(M.O.) OGs

Bong!