Slam Pitfeat. Cuban Link and Common

<br>[Cuban Link]<br>&quot;I`m hard to kill, for real, nigga guard your grill&quot; --&gt; Cuban Link<br>Yo, yo, Yo flipmode is how this nigga roll<br>Finger on the trigger low, quick to lick a shot for that bigger pot of gold<br>Lock and load, my heavy metal rock and rolls<br>If you gotta go you gotta go, that`s part of the show<br>My heart is cold like a Nautica nailin niggaz like carpenters<br>Stalkin the hardest squadrons, spark em from New York to Arkansas<br>Watchin the projects is how I got my logic<br>Economics is pickin pockets then we split the profit<br>The only shit I pop is what my glock spit<br>Watch for the cops since we spark the chocolate<br>Cause the blocks are hotter than the fuckin tropics<br>In topless bars, college girls with no bras<br>My whole squad got blow jobs smokin Godfather cigars<br>Live large like Scarface, parlayin to far place<br>No car chasin, she`s watchin all the stars in space<br>Safe and sound in my playground with my tre pound<br>Got eighty rounds just in case clowns wanna play around<br>I lay it down for them non-believers<br>Them non-achievin niggaz that wanna be leaders but can never beat us<br>Y`all better greet us if you ever see us (word up)<br>TS, Beatnuts, double up, but grab your motherfuckin heaters<br><br>Sample interlude<br>--Slammin MC`s on cement--<br>--The beats, the nuts--<br>--Got you froze like gun point--<br><br>[JuJu]<br>--It`s the hard-little pistol packin--<br>It`s the control freak, leave you with a whole in your cheek<br>Worst attitude in rap, Ju stay in the streets<br>I gotta eat, the only thing I`m playin is keeps<br>Your beats cost a lotta money but they sound real cheap<br>You sound weak, anemic, like you get no sleep<br>Fuckin with me, you outta your mind? get outta your Jeep<br>Ya know I`m gonna beat you till the police come<br>And tell niggaz who the fuck I got that Roly from<br><br>[Psycho Les]<br>--Psycho Les--<br>Yeah, ugh, what...Jump out the Rover and let you know its over<br>And grab you with a crowbar and snap you in a coma<br>Drug you with my music son, you`ll never sober<br>While your chicks on my --boing-- on a leather soafer<br>Chillin there, iced out billionaire<br>In war clothes blastin as I blast led through your Versace wardrobe<br>What! Motherfuckers<br><br>--Slammin MC`s on cement--<br>Ugh<br><br>[Common]<br>--Common Sense, Common`s tellin ya--<br>Picture a king, with heater, holy book, and big rings<br>Real nigga doin big things interpreting dreams<br>Off the Jim Bean, ain`t shit sweet for sixteens<br>My gods got the block sewn to the inseam<br>I`m on the other side, trying to get green<br>So I fash and trash that ass at least a day<br>Warrin with self I battle, the Middle Eastern way<br>Bring heat like the months, that`s east of May<br>Casket in the road and saw a new school that knows the old<br>This memory I hold the scroll, my flow is a Road...Less Traveled<br>You rock, but been through less gravel<br>My mystique suggest battle and what have you<br>Rip a nigga from New York to west coast, Chicago<br>Don`t give a fuck where he from he`ll get beat like a drum<br>Till this rap goes numb, seekin the hot Medusa from circulation<br>I strangle this string music, and suffocate a drum<br>Wanted to be a star till I seen I was the sun/son<br>got my weight up like Pun<br>Improvise to get ass, emphasize to get passed<br>Fuck a mic check, I bring my flow in cash<br><br>Talkin to fade