Yea
Return of the golden era, n***a
It's your boy, Tim Dog
Fuck what ya'll n***as talking about
The golden era
Where I'm from
We still spit on ya'll n***as
Ya'll new n***as ain't shit

[Verse One]

Lay shit down
Put it up n***a
Double up
Lay your whole chips down, n***a
Let's bubble up
N***as fucking with the D.o.g
Be coming at me like the police with an A.P.B
But you don't recognize lately
I know you hate me
You n***as really underrate me
But dog is greatly
I move them keys like I'm Macy
Or Count Basie
N***as is thinking the Dog is sleeping cause the eyes are lazy
N***as you crazy
I bother you and your moms, the neighbors and the babies
I come to get it on with the Army and the Navy
I spit facts
Watch emcees buckle and get back
I sit back
Your head get big, I push your wig back
Brain splat all over your chain and your six pack
Your bitch wack
Nutted on her ass and the shit crack
The pimps back
Rolling with diamonds and a six, black
The trunk's fat
Filled with autos something sick, black
The Dog's back
Ready for you homos and you fags
Fuck your promos and mags
Put them doughnuts in the bag
But you don't understand the lingo
You fucking gringo
It's the money in the bundle
Rubber band wrapped around the bitch
N***a make it rain
Real G's make it drowning
So come on
Who want more?
Fucking doubt it
N***as know I'm no limit
Cause the Dog's fucking bout it
We can talk arsenal
Whatever n***a, I got it

Yo, no matter whatcha'll new rapper say
Ya'll can't fuck with the golden era
Let's go

[Verse Two]

N***as claim they're hardcore
But they ain't came more raw
[?]
Roll up the window panel
You switched the handle
N***a playing me a truck with the ammo
You can be a shark in the game
I'm a mammal
Or you can get high on life
And get smoked off the camel
Cause you and me are not equal
I'm God, your not Han Solo
Your R2-D2
Lying to your fans but to me your see through
Shit list baby
Here's a mother fucking preview
I'm the unsigned hype
My game is so precise on the mic and life
Get dissed tonight
Ima show you why the pimp was right
You married your baby mom after five kids
I fucked the first night
I hit it when the bitch was tight
You can't run from me n***a lace your Nikes
You can't eat my food when I ate your Life
N***a you can't beat a gun with a knife
Or pipe
But maybe if your nice, all right
You couldn't bring your fucking man, two body guards and DJ
With one hand laying down n***as easy
Yea, I heard about the shit you saying
And i heard about the fact that you print the game
But I don't like the way ya'll n***as try to come in my lane
Try to change the game
Try to re-arrange
Try to make it hard for me
So I'm bringing the pain
I want ya'll n***as way back
N***as call me the problem child cause I don't know how to act
Then smack a n***a fast
I come see you at the Grammys or your office, whatever
I'm in ya'll n***as ass
On gun, two gun, three gun, four
Five gun, six gun, seven guns, more
Bring your whole team to my fucking front door
Murder all ya'll n***as with C-4
N***as think I'm sore cause I run with Kool Keith and Ultra
South Bronx n***a where murder is culture
Webster Ave n***a where beef is Kosher
Bring it on n***a I toast ya
BX stand up
I'm bringing home the crown
I owe it all to you cause you held me down
Ain't no other Bronx rappers are making a sound
But I'm a tear there shit down
N***as won't let me eat
Who won't let me air this shit now?

BX stand up!
We invented Hip Hop!