Letra House gang Funkmaster Flex

House gang

[Hook:]
Me and you
(We coming!)
Your momma and your cousin too
And hoodrappers just in love with you
Know what we do how we do
We do it

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I said the kid's the dog
Everybody dying, no lying
Living the life of a circuit
My enemy said some shit
I'm rolling up in the Viper
To wipe him, it's perfect.
Rifle dispersin'
(Come out your house!)
This is a
This reminds me of Joey checking concert quits
I sound calm but in my mind I'm hunting you down
Like you trying to climb the fence.
Split your spleen while you with your queen.

Obama take away my right to bare arms
I'm putting a sweater around the uzi
And walking around with it like it's my toy dog

You callin' me sober, so what, save the shit
I done drink so much I don't even know what being famous is.
The difference between the dealers and the A-list bitch
All I know is I'm a hot sniff away from doing a play to Taylor Swift
That'd be the day you haters wish
That day I'm standing up at that platform at the Grammy show
Dressed up like The Dream living a nightmare
God can throw up at the shoulder of an addict
I'm Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston wrapped up in the plastic package
My only true concern is what I'm going through after rapping
Maybe I'll clap your ass and just do life
Fore I break in this new knife.
All I wanted to do was...

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Rappety, rapppety, rappety, rappety rap
That's all I'm good for?
Nah, I was that nigga that asked you why you in my hood fo'?
Well then your uncle should have told you
I'm gon' need that chain you wearing
No hard feelings

Though I'm willin' to leave you spillin'
Like oil when they fuck up drilling
I'm just playing the hand I was dealt
We all grew up in a full house
We border children

This ain't no pokerface boy!
Ain't no bluffin'
All that huffing and puffing for what?
You giving up something, either your life or that ice
Back in the days the yaowa was a trap
Scribbling raps up in my trap.
Don't keep calling me this uhh, here rapper
Mayweather with the left
Pacquiáo say goodnight.
You don't wanna box me pappy
That ain't no punch line I'm like Rocky
I'm a quarter of the Slaughter
Four fourths of a New Yorker