Ghetto Symphony (Feat. Mia X, Fiend, C-Murder, Silkk The Shocker, Mystikal And Goldie Loc)

Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit shit
Yeah. we got my ni*ga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherf*cker
Mystikal all up in this b*tch
Goldie Loc, hm-hmm
My nephew Silkk the Shocker
Oh yeah, we got somethin for the ladies too
Mia X, run this b*tch
Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler
I’m Mother, of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerilla millionaires, so don’t even ask, if you wanna
Get to clappin, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
some of y’all nig*az talk sh*t and get mad
Cause we did it with a foot up your a*s, and it’s still there
I cares not about your click or the block
I’m still that same b*tch to run up in your spot and knock you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) b*tch on a mission
Keep them nig*az by they nuts while you hoes be d*ck kissin
Missin the game, damn b*tch it’s written in plain ebonics
So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge
Mia X, kickin off the ghetto symphony
Next soldier up, tell em who the F*CK you be
WHUT? It’s Fiend y’all
Put me in the ring with real MC’s, and watch em run for cover
And hidin in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on
Bleed on, exceed on!
Weak rappers with titles after twelve
Hit a bell that’s what I’ll feed on!
Microphone Don, walkin flesh, talkin bomb
Bringin harm, to the calm, and, them be alarmed
It’s the African, oh, you wanna battle again?
I’ll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans
Oh damn, totin two pistols like Yosemite Sam
Old man be grand, loud as the Southern band
Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can
I would be the man, but Dogg beat me to them plans
Next up, on the M-I-C
C-Murder, get busy for the symphony
I be’s that ni*ga on the tank, always trippin never slippin
Have you reminiscin and missin, that fool in your picture
Call me Bossalinie B*TCH without the Mo’s at shows
And F*CK dose who oppose (why?) we runnin them hoes
three-hundred and sixty-five motherf*ckin days a year
I have your fool staggerin just like a bottle of beer
You ni*gaz runnin from the cops, well I ain’t runnin no mo'
I flip the bird when I swerve, man, F*CK them hoes
I’m crazy my nag*a, but uh, I thought y’all knew that, sh*t
Oh you ain’t see the news? Sh*t I’m the nig*a with the TRU tat
Ask my nig*a Keno, sh*t, I just don’t give a f*ck
And if you run up wrong, I’ma f*ck you up, you b*tch you
Next up, on the M-I-C
Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony
Now would I COME THIS FAR F*CKER? If I didn’t sound like a hit
Y’all didn’t know what the f*ck y’all thinkin bout
You sound like a b*tch (beotch!)
Sh*t it sound like a wish, you know when you got a motherf*ckin hit
B*tch? When it sound like this!
Or you fake niggaz get enough heart, and try to bust a
Rhyme at this click
F*ck around and miss, then f*ck around and get
Found in a ditch
Gotta labels give me dough, when they find I can, gross this much
Freestyle sh*t, you can tell em I ain’t, wrote this stuff
Silkk the Shocker, KLC perv and mash like, Snoop and Dre ni*ga
Y’all can relate to get a contract like, MJ ni*ga
Nigga where you from? You sweata, F*CK YOU AT?
N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I’m F*CKIN with that
Next up, on the M-I-C
Mystikal get busy on the symphony
WHOO SHIT MOTHERF*CKER GOD DAMN!
I keep it HYYYYYYPE, BITCH I’M THE MAN!
When the F*CK you ever heard somebody say that they don’t say my song
Or that I don’t roll on every f*ckin person RAPPIN ON
(That ni*ga Mystikal tighter than a muh’f*cker) HAHHHHH?
I came up off of _Peter Piper_ bells and the LL’s Bad
Nee ni*ga to be pissed off with me
cause their old lady they call me their baby
MC’s pilin up and crowdin up, but I’m their FAVORITE
The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC
And chop you in your motherf*ckin face (HIII-YAH)
Your album ain’t tite, WHAT IN THE F*CK IS YOU PUSHIN?
You played out just like old woman pu*sy
Next up, on the M-I-C
Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony
Now watch me put these haters to the test, accumulatin with my stress
Fold em f*ck em fifty, get the shit up off my chest
Releasin anger, all natural gangsta energy
Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House game
Motherf*ckers better start backin up (whattup whattup)
We in the Tank punk busters, motherfuckers don’t wanna see us loc’d up
Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thang
Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gangbang
Last up, I believe that’s me
Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony
This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics
That thought I wasn’t comin, out with some exquisite, rhymes
But that’s OK, cause now I’m back
To kill all the rumors, and straighten the facts
Like umm, doin bad, gettin ganked for my bank
Now you all on my d*ck when you see I’m TRU Tank Dogg
You say, «Mmmm mmm mmm! Ain’t that somethin
Dogg I bought yo' album, my nig*a, that sh*t is bumpin
I apologize, I’m sorry for the drama
Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?»
Sh*t I’m settin it off, lettin it off, bustin
Hustlin, rushin, dustin motherf*ckers
Droppin the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to
I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?
Top of the line, first class
I pop a cap in yo' a*s, then pop some more in the glass
Too legit to quit, I’m spittin gangsta sh*t
Man f*ck all that yappin, we bout that gun clappin
No Limit, yeah, that’s what’s happenin
F*ck all that yappin, we bout that gun clappin yeah
In the real world, talk is cheap
Actions speak louder than words
No Limit Records, here to protect and serve
Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit shit
Yeah. we got my ni*ga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherf*cker
Mystikal all up in this b*tch
Goldie Loc, hm-hmm
My nephew Silkk the Shocker
Oh yeah, we got somethin for the ladies too
Mia X, run this b*tch
Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler
I’m Mother, of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerilla millionaires, so don’t even ask, if you wanna
Get to clappin, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
some of y’all nig*az talk sh*t and get mad
Cause we did it with a foot up your a*s, and it’s still there
I cares not about your click or the block
I’m still that same b*tch to run up in your spot and knock you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) b*tch on a mission
Keep them nig*az by they nuts while you hoes be d*ck kissin
Missin the game, damn b*tch it’s written in plain ebonics
So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge
Mia X, kickin off the ghetto symphony
Next soldier up, tell em who the F*CK you be
WHUT? It’s Fiend y’all
Put me in the ring with real MC’s, and watch em run for cover
And hidin in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on
Bleed on, exceed on!
Weak rappers with titles after twelve
Hit a bell that’s what I’ll feed on!
Microphone Don, walkin flesh, talkin bomb
Bringin harm, to the calm, and, them be alarmed
It’s the African, oh, you wanna battle again?
I’ll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans
Oh damn, totin two pistols like Yosemite Sam
Old man be grand, loud as the Southern band
Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can
I would be the man, but Dogg beat me to them plans
Next up, on the M-I-C
C-Murder, get busy for the symphony
I be’s that ni*ga on the tank, always trippin never slippin
Have you reminiscin and missin, that fool in your picture
Call me Bossalinie B*TCH without the Mo’s at shows
And F*CK dose who oppose (why?) we runnin them hoes
three-hundred and sixty-five motherf*ckin days a year
I have your fool staggerin just like a bottle of beer
You ni*gaz runnin from the cops, well I ain’t runnin no mo'
I flip the bird when I swerve, man, F*CK them hoes
I’m crazy my nag*a, but uh, I thought y’all knew that, sh*t
Oh you ain’t see the news? Sh*t I’m the nig*a with the TRU tat
Ask my nig*a Keno, sh*t, I just don’t give a f*ck
And if you run up wrong, I’ma f*ck you up, you b*tch you
Next up, on the M-I-C
Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony
Now would I COME THIS FAR F*CKER? If I didn’t sound like a hit
Y’all didn’t know what the f*ck y’all thinkin bout
You sound like a b*tch (beotch!)
Sh*t it sound like a wish, you know when you got a motherf*ckin hit
B*tch? When it sound like this!
Or you fake niggaz get enough heart, and try to bust a
Rhyme at this click
F*ck around and miss, then f*ck around and get
Found in a ditch
Gotta labels give me dough, when they find I can, gross this much
Freestyle sh*t, you can tell em I ain’t, wrote this stuff
Silkk the Shocker, KLC perv and mash like, Snoop and Dre ni*ga
Y’all can relate to get a contract like, MJ ni*ga
Nigga where you from? You sweata, F*CK YOU AT?
N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I’m F*CKIN with that
Next up, on the M-I-C
Mystikal get busy on the symphony
WHOO SHIT MOTHERF*CKER GOD DAMN!
I keep it HYYYYYYPE, BITCH I’M THE MAN!
When the F*CK you ever heard somebody say that they don’t say my song
Or that I don’t roll on every f*ckin person RAPPIN ON
(That ni*ga Mystikal tighter than a muh’f*cker) HAHHHHH?
I came up off of _Peter Piper_ bells and the LL’s Bad
Nee ni*ga to be pissed off with me
cause their old lady they call me their baby
MC’s pilin up and crowdin up, but I’m their FAVORITE
The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC
And chop you in your motherf*ckin face (HIII-YAH)
Your album ain’t tite, WHAT IN THE F*CK IS YOU PUSHIN?
You played out just like old woman pu*sy
Next up, on the M-I-C
Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony
Now watch me put these haters to the test, accumulatin with my stress
Fold em f*ck em fifty, get the shit up off my chest
Releasin anger, all natural gangsta energy
Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House game
Motherf*ckers better start backin up (whattup whattup)
We in the Tank punk busters, motherfuckers don’t wanna see us loc’d up
Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thang
Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gangbang
Last up, I believe that’s me
Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony
This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics
That thought I wasn’t comin, out with some exquisite, rhymes
But that’s OK, cause now I’m back
To kill all the rumors, and straighten the facts
Like umm, doin bad, gettin ganked for my bank
Now you all on my d*ck when you see I’m TRU Tank Dogg
You say, «Mmmm mmm mmm! Ain’t that somethin
Dogg I bought yo' album, my nig*a, that sh*t is bumpin
I apologize, I’m sorry for the drama
Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?»
Sh*t I’m settin it off, lettin it off, bustin
Hustlin, rushin, dustin motherf*ckers
Droppin the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to
I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?
Top of the line, first class
I pop a cap in yo' a*s, then pop some more in the glass
Too legit to quit, I’m spittin gangsta sh*t
Man f*ck all that yappin, we bout that gun clappin
No Limit, yeah, that’s what’s happenin
F*ck all that yappin, we bout that gun clappin yeah
In the real world, talk is cheap
Actions speak louder than words
No Limit Records, here to protect and serve