PMD: Fake homeyz

[ PMD ](Yo, nobody invited me to the party?)Word em up(Ya man)Check it out(Comin through)[ VERSE 1: PMD ]Well goddamn, another grand slam from the ZoneBlack Benz with chrome, no time to phone homeNiggas try to push up, get that head flown like frisbeeDick thee, flip the script like Bill BixbyI ain't tryin to hear niggas, that's on the real, c-d is in the storeSo while you're steppin through, nigga, steppin through hardcore(What) P holds his own on this here microphoneYou better check your clip for blinds, all them shots, kid, still missed the domeFakin moves, put down the future of the funk, punkCan't even sample, nigga, claimin to make trunks rumpYou get jumped, yeah nigga, chill, I know my shit thumpsBack from the Boondox wildin, peep the slam dunkLumps on your headpiece, back in 3-dI let the brothers decide just like sweepeeBut for now I lay low, act like you know me, homey( *inhales* ) here's a pull for my fake homeyz[ VERSE 2: Top Quality ]I be the Op-T Lity-Qua, the one you leapedYou gotta see the tricky techniques, creep but don't sleepGot the chunky dunky styles I like to dropMakes heads bop across mad blocks because I gotThat shit that knock, a-shippity-bop-bop the spot, still hotOoh-ah-ooh-ah, no need to cock-block, equipped with no glocksI rather wreck you with my deckerAnd damage ya, I'm no janitor but I swept yaI kept a record of the things you messed upNiggas thought that he musta rushedCause I touched these ducks fuckin with yukSo if you do not know by now you never knewI'm straight like 0852I welcome you but you still refuse to swing your dukesYou gotta do what you doGet the boot if you can't troop for shitWe're gettin still get a lick with a bitI won't switch cause P is not havin itI catch you when the sun goes down on the night tipI'm standin with my mic gripHardcore rugged, walkin down the aisles, make you buckwildGo check my files, you know my styleHere's a pull for my fake homeyz[ VERSE 3: 3rd Eye ]On the strenght, on the strenght3rd Eye comin through..Yeeeahhh, now let me kick a verse, geeI'm thirsty, Lord have mercy on those who curse mePeek-a-boo! thought I couldn't see through that gas upQuick, I flicked a Bic and burned that wicked ass upWho sent me, tempt me, gee, I flow till my dome's emptyTest me, baggin brothers up like ???, yes geeBring it on, we play for keeps, creepCan't read my mind, I got the antidote sleep, peep itAnd I get funky ???? like a junkie I'm dopeWhen I quote shit I wrote I go for broke no jokeI choke rappers like a toke of smokeOoh, pass the buddah brick I need to take a hitI think I wanna flare (is that right?)Who want a bite, just to kiss that ass goodnightCause word is bond we gon' fightIt's from the heart, brothers getting papers, they ain't paid no duesI got some bad news, here comes the Hit SquadAnd my shit's hard and it gets harder than thatEven ???? my shit's fat start believin thatYou ain't even that fly enough to try and bluff3rd Eye's rough enough to make you wanna bust that rough stuffSo here's a puff for my fake homeyz( *inhales* ) you don't know me[ DJ Scratch scratches ][ 3rd Eye ]Here's a puff for my fake homeyzYou don't know meHere's a puff for my fake homeyzFuck all the backstabbers[ PMD ]Hit Squad is in the house, kid[ 3rd Eye ]3rd Eye, 3rd Eye[ PMD ]Yeah kidShit is on