[Chorus: Buckshot]
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page

[Verse 1: Gangsta Boo]
Naughty, naughty motherfuckers get the feelin' of this shit
This shit so funky cause we underneath the grounds of Triple 6
I'm smokin' out, I'm livin' large, I keep you haters out my face
Your life is over motherfucker, when I grab ahold that gauge
My n***as from the Three 6 clique, they keep me hooked up on that game
I'm chargin' n***as daily, maybe lady is out to get paid
You hoes can't fuck wit me, I'm flowin', showin', hoes I ain't no hater
Comin' strictly from the Southside gettin' greater later
Everybody wanna gossip, he say, she say this and that
You suckers need to grow up out that kiddy shit, quit fakin' just 'cause the Three 6 Mafia comin' '96 to two G's, bitch
Ms. Lady Gangsta on that weed, kickin' real shit
Just to let you know I barr no ho, come on the scenery
Scenery, filled with red dots, infrared beams
Now where you gon' go? You can't hide, your life is over, kid
It's time for the killin' 'cause you have fucked up with the wrong ass bitch
[Chorus: Buckshot]
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as in the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page

[Verse 2: DJ Paul & Juicy J]
Mane, this n***a killin' me, tellin' these people that he's about to go nationwide
When he gotta drop his tapes off his self, plus he gotta call drunk to get a ride
I saw the motherfucker standin' out in front Cats talkin' about, bout my tape
The n***a talk about the hard shit on that tape, knowin' he sweet as cake
The type of n***a, to tell these hoes that he's about to blow the fuck up
The only blowin' up bitch you doin' is when I stick the grenade in your butt
Since smokin' them mega blunts I can tell, fool, who's a liar
I saw you for real, hit that ill shit you Primo buyer
Juice Mane I know what you sayin', these hoes be killin' me ever so softly
But little do the bitch boy know I be sellin' his verses cassette or tape awfully
Don't forget about the day you were in rage after you got that page
From a doctor from the health department tellin' you you are infected wit AIDS
This homeboy only car was a Maverick that he bought 'for the 200 ($200,000)
That he got for signin' his contract - you bitch boy, you fuckin' dummy
Let the n***a think he got big time cus, steve put 'em on dem CD's
Young n***a you'll never sell more than the Three 6, bitch please
[Chorus: Buckshot]
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page

[Verse 3: Lord Infamous]
Infamous is comin' strapped like an Italian-Arabic-Iraqi-Iranian-South American-Cuban-Guerilla-Colombian-Muslim, a subgroup maniac
Comin' to rip your damn head off your neck, put your heart in a bag, then I sprinkle your ash
Headin' straight to tha headquarter, chief on the blunt of the Indica down in my stash
I reside in the insane asylum, the bodies I pile 'em on Infamous Island
Where there is no smilin', the n***as buck-wildin', the weapons are silenced
There's nothin' but violence
Military barbarian, buck 'em and bury 'em
Fuck with the scarier insanitarium, pallbearer carry 'em
There's no merry love, only murder blood
Then I take something worse out of all of these hollow points burst and disperse
Going "boom", blastin' bone through the back of your shirt, you be burnt up and buried in dirt, that'll work
The Scarecrow be smokin' these n***as with shit they can't get with, these bitches they'll never compare
I'm comin' from the land of Triple 6, n***as still sufferin' every day man, I swear
I see them fuckin' pray so low they better lay
It happens everyday, don't make me grab the gauge
Dangerously I play, I blast out your rib cage
And put ya body in the back of the grey Chevrolet
[Chorus: Buckshot]
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Grab my gauge, I'm in a rage
Ride up on the strip and put some n***as on the front page