[Verse 1 — Maseo]
I was born
Son of Vincent, brother of Anne
Dodged my mama, De La's the camp
Been doin' it for years, approval is stamped
When they come to makin' hits, I got this shit on clamp
N***as talking dog shit and they need the lamp
They be smokin' so much wet that their style is damp
Man, I blow mad speakers and amps
Run through n***a's camps with my own stash of plants
Singin' my own chants (hey ya, hey ya)
Reppin' my own camp (De La, De La)
I suggest you don't talk no shit, hock my shit
Come around me, slippin' perc in my shit
Poppin' corks and shit? Yeah, it's all legit
But the (?) ain't frontin' like I'll ever be rich
Ain't pissin' the bitch, I just keep on, keep on
Cuz in the next milli I'mma rip on, rip on
Don't sleep on, sleep on
I'mma creep on, creep on
Shit is my style some of y'all eatin' on
Shit, a n***a ain't (?) is better
Throw a curve, touch a nerve when I put it together
Any type of weather, hot or cold
What's the name of the crew, now? De La Soul
And I am the band on the mountain, countin' hits
While they keep doubtin'

[Hook]
Words and verbs
Rolled like a dutch
Tight, the very right for y'all
Eatin' on the shit
Yo, y'all need to quit

[Verse 2 — Maseo]
Comin' from a side so far, bizarre
Long pop in, studdin', microphone grabbin'
Whack mu'fuckas no longer am I havin'
From the nine-nine to the milli-milli
Things gonna get kinda silly, illy
Me and my crew, we flip the scrilly, really
Not trying' to play the willy, get woozy
Off them cocktails and the floozies
M-A-S-E, had to add the O
Cuz my F-L-O is doubly correct
And when I come on your set, double the effect
So n***as talkin' sex, showin' no respect
Talkin' like they got the credit and they ass in debt
Gettin' me upset? Naw, naw, not yet
Just a few that I got to check and out of balance
Some comin' out when they don't really got talent

[Verse 3 — Kovas]
It's like, it's like, it's like
Twice the trouble, we smash crews to rubble, uh
RIght off the muscle, we hustle in the struggle, um
Double the efforts to make money like Russell
Un-touchable, twistin' the trees, now blaze the hate, OK
It's K-O-V-A to the S
Takin' you back, yes some feaky-feaky-fresh
Drop some over-drum, native with the tongue
The one whose son steady, ready, with (?)
Revolutions is heard at thirty-three and a third
Tighter than a dutch when I drop words and verbs
Representin' Belize and all my family overseas
Double-barrel hittin' your chest, your contest weed
Rollin' in a stolen Dutch holdin' the hookers open
Ready for the strokin' off with the words the n***a spoken
I'm hopin' she be deep-throatin', she must be thinkin' I'm jokin'
She took a sip of the potion (?)
We out

[Hook]