PMD: Rugged-n-raw

Ba-bom, boom, aoowww, heh I'm blast the cold blast, I'm back to cold blast *scratch* from the Squad tower (Yo don't erase that intro!) *whistling* Chorus: repeat 4X (with variations and Hit Squad shoutouts) I represent the hardcore rough rugged and raw The PMD the mic's my only friend repeat Chorus Verse One: PMD I grab my cordless like my nigga DJ Scratch is on the cut Hit Squad on live, PMD's like what (what?) I'm too rough, gettin snuffed all in the cut Get with the rugged raw shit, catch a nigga in the gut Cause I'm Blass and niggaz ass stay gear with the Hilfiger Timberland boots, Rolex, whip a Benz So throw your hands up in the air like you don't care Chickenheads swingin from chandeliers in they underwear That's that b-boy shit, grab your big dick Crack a 40, spark an L and get bent shit Three eighty by the hip in case a nigga slip Don't like beefs or jealousy fucks? It's mass confusion niggaz losin by the minute tryin to win it But thanks to hip-hop, yo Scratch spin it Chorus 1/2 Verse Two: Yippie-yi-yay, yippy-yo, it's the, slow-flow mechanic Mass confusion is crusin just start to panic and you don't stop, got the Hit Squad backin me Spark your L's, honies sip your daquiri Ask for P, my mission in to get richer and lost my other half but I still got my Fisherman hat, it ain't over til the fat chickenhead catch wreck, snap that bitch neck I show and prove niggaz best to move slow The P the Mic Doc (c'mon) the micraphone's my only friend, can't even trust nobody Cause next thing you know I'm fuckin bustin somebody My shadow got my back and that's the way it goes Keep my eyes out for foes and remain on my tippy toes Respect my flows then release it for the brothers One to hundreds, the fuckin certified top gunners I keep a close knit quick to roast click Bout to pull shit, a few dimepieces if the hoes fit It don't quit, it don't stop, and never will and so kill it, I'm strictly hardcore so you can see it Chorus *shouts, DJ Scratch on the cut, misc.*