[Vin Rock]
(Strike a nerve)
Yo bitch, it was some bitch in a seminar
Talking bout you had to get up early to wax this
(Strike a nerve)
Them other motherfuckers said you couldn't even wax that dirty bitch
So whats up y'all?
(Strike a nerve)

[Treach]
I get my daily dose of cha-cha-cha and "Shut the fuck up, ho"
Shit, shaved, and bathed everyday then I must go
Ugh, this is Everyday All Day, let's all say
Plucking enough and roughing em up and fucking 'em up always
Bet, let's talk about a back flash, ya jackass
That fast you flash with a match, your fast rap
And even though you didn't know me before the flow solo
It's no slow way to go, bolos I throw or sold
Let's pick a bitch to pick with, peekaboo
I see you through your crew, now what you want to do?
After that, caps off to the black frost
My pants always sag 'cause I rap my ass off (oh)
You want to talk about a bad boy sanchoi
I'm bad as they come, chum, straight up ricochet rap style
To Vin Rock and KayGee, I'm the baby
Dropping the ladies, craving ya maybe, I have the right to be lazy
Got more stretch to my swing and the stretch of a chicken wing
The flavor is bacon and its craving is ice cream
I'm too trucked to be fucked and too live, otherwise
Ya drive by's smuffler, word to the mother, my brother eyed
Running and coming, drama staring with a stellar
I need so many lumps, I'll use your head as a braille book
Many friends ships ink, quick, fast
It'll take a dollar worth of gas to outlast your little tired ass
You tried to swing this way, you little swifty
(Ha ha ha, slum bitches still miss me)
I do the dumping, humping, clapping like thunder
And that's coming from a land down under

Yo, I'm sick of dis shit, man
Niggas trying to cut, they rocks none (Strike a nerve)
Yo, they trying to make us drop, Vin Rock saying he don't rock enough
Yo kick that shit

[Vin Rock]
Prepare for the worst, 'cause I ain't living loss
I wouldn't just give a fuck, 'cause giving is free and my fuck's cost
? your loss in The Source, 'cause I know no way
I been there before, maybe 5-6 times a day
Sometimes I put my hands on my head when I'm done, from
And wondered to myself where did that def shit come from?
And then I think about the Naughty and the Nature in it
And then the Flavor then the figures while I'm flowing with it
So I won't give up, stop, stall, quit, ya kitten
You can't touch this, fuck what them throats written
I got tracks, better known as snaps, far forbidden
And the warm do, I know, I know how to make ya feel it
I'll take a head, I'll make ya spread and now lay back
I tell you once, I tell you twice, Vinnie don't play that (You don't?)
So don't start, there will be none is the lesson, folks
I hate cigarettes but my Smith & Wessun smokes
From anywhere, from any corner, anytime that's right
Who you bashing? I go blast in broad daylight
You stand hard, you look hard, yeah, your figure's soft
I got 'nough props from buck shots that niggas caught
Ya say you can't go to the taking me out close
Huh, in that case, you should g named your album "Almost"
I wouldn't rely on the try if I was you, yo
'cause I'm turning tries into "oh oh's" and "hell no's"
I wouldn't be caught dead with you up in trying it
And if I was going, I get my stiff ass up and rip shit
I can't go out like a wooden sock with padlocks
I'll leave tacks tiny and slimy like snot spots
I write a day, to me, it's a common caper
Say so much shit, huh, I write my rhymes on toilet paper

Yeah, Vin Rock, backbone of Naughty By Nature, ya know I'm saying?
(Strike a nerve)
That's right, so everybody sleeping on the up, stay off of my dick
(Strike a nerve)
We're gonna stomp this time around, word up
(Strike a nerve)

[Treach & Vin Rock]
Look who's mother's in the studio, thirty sons and daughters
Mrs. Happy Thing is in the back catching quarters
Come and try to run wit it, never in a lifetime
Thirty ? could act at Caesar's, still I bet I get mine
I heard your girl's having a baby, now will what she have?
A bag of dope, a bottle, or crack, or a sess bag
There ain't a part of me with 'sorry' written on it, slick
You couldn't rock a crooked cradle, you fucking prick
The way I rock could shit, you just often like it
My style's so fat I had to throw it on a water diet
Bullshit ya not, I ain't the type to be fucking with
Wrecking with, and if I mic attest it, I'll be necking it
Onslaught at an encore, you stinking rat
You're so dumb you tried to buy a fucking thinking cap
Now that tells us in a sec right where your head is at
In between some bitch's legs, looking ass and lap
My name is Treach, remember this and don't you ever 'fess
That's a shame, I get two minutes just to say "Next!"
Fuck who follows you, you and them could help each other
I treat you both like any other motherfucking runner
This is the Flavor, tasty although sugar-free
So have a Coke, have a smile and have a booger, G

(Why?) 'cause you don't mean shit to me
I'ma take you ? where good shit's meant to be
I rock a rhyme that'll be a straight up def track
Dropping more shit than white castles and neck slacks
A studio to me is just a chance to rock, G
I rock and rock, god damn, call me VinRocky (ha ha)
It's just what the fuck I'm talking bout
I say one thing and your whole crew's walking out
So do the lyric here, this is one lyric less
If I were you, I'd take and throw em on his fucking neck
Something that flow should come straight from the horse's mouth
Mr. Ed's dead so his ass is the best way out
Shit man for hire, this hitman is the law
I run more tracks than a San Francisco trolley car
Prepare for the win-te, oh yeah
I could write your fucking album and you'll soon be the last one there
I start to heat up and rip shit in one, see
You couldn't get it hard if the eyes were on Broad Street
So don't you ever never tell me I'm not good enough
I got more stuff than a teddy bear, from ass to gut
This is a solid you could never outlast
If bullshit was worth a dime, you'd have a job in a cow's ass

Writer : BROWN, VINCENT E. / GIST, KEIR LAMONT / CRISS, ANTHONY SHAWN
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.