Verse 1: Treach, (Vin Rock)

Oh finally, finally (here we are)
And for good, are the three, follow me (It ain't far
Even though if it was, you could make it to the start
The enemies, do you know who they are? (There they are)
devil with the dorags be walkin, now I had it up to there
Oh yeah, that's the last straw (The Nature's back for......)
(*Better than disco*) (R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ound*) (Ugh, ugh, ugh)
Pin the tail on the junkie, find a false flavor
It's a new day to play with a neighbour
Freeze the MC's that wanna see thee
By now Naugh-ty By Nature by me
They want me [bad word] and come up faster, that could be arranged
Dump the last of the matinee, cos they couldn't stand the [bad word] rain
The pain's the same, the game remains mine
I got more hooks than a fish line
Bite the head off a snake
Chew it from the first to last break and shoot em in the face
Make way, (move), who are you to test me? (Huh, huh, huh......)
I seen your last porno flick, it ain't impress me
Wassup? Cuddle sport, here's a thought
(The only records that they got, are the records their crew bought) [bad word] real rock, get fienin, spunky
Pin the tail on the donkey

(*Bring that beat back*)
Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go

Verse 2: Treach, (Vin Rock)

I do more poppin than a blockhead, wreck the waxheads
I'm fed, (Go ahead, you retired tackhead)
Back to the fact of the track witta new thought
You couldn't smoke butts witta match and a Newport
Here we go, we go, we go again, witta flow we know, we know it's in
(Def play like Poppa Simpson)
KayGee's on the slice, can he co-clean?
Doin more scratchin than a funk and a dope fiend
Cold knockin blocks off, get your props off
But don't cop off, cop out, and I'll cuts off
Another renegade of rap will stop that
I'm more feared than a Sugar Hill contract
I'm known for Lettin The Hos Go, my demo's all flow
when cursin was a no-no, you dodo
Give it up cos I'm hot witta warm hate
I won't stop, pop, til that head is screwed on straight
I take shorts, and no sorts, so take that clone
The only thing I take is the 8 to the path home
And I take you all the way to the north stop
Your style is more foul than a pork chop
I rock the hip-hop, non-stop tick-tock
around the big clock, witta spot, tick-tock
Pin the tail on the jackass, it don't mean jack (chill.....)
to a brother from down the hill
Back track with a rap that remains funky
(Hmmm, and it's smooth)
Back in the day, y'all, I played with playdough
The dough is real now, and [bad word] s feel how
a starvin hungry MC gets when
MC filet mignon is the fixin'
I'm starvin up, it's time ta, call them up, yup
Get em and cut em up, stuff em and cook the duck
Tough luck, tell em to shut up and jet
And feel the threat of a real life roughneck
Pin the tail on the donkey

(*Can I get a witness?*)

Verse 3: Treach, (Vin Rock)

(Check check, where you, where you at, at??)
That another best will need a hard vest for this head check)
(What? There's another, Treach?) That's what I heard, yep
Three steps from a pit, boom, in his chest
I never knew a [bad word] really wanted to die
Instead he bit, instead of lookin me eye-to-eye, then I
knew he was [bad word] thru, dumb plus the one
To meet the mighty one, call a bad one
I rhyme about what I want to, microphone 1-2
You're doin like *?Lasuran?* then a bomb do
T-H-MC O-R-A-P T-O L-double O-K
A-T, I-N T-H-N-I-N-E-T-I-E, apostrophe S see
And I might stop to step to a y
fancy, prancy and dancy
No cosmo stomp, here's the [bad word] form
Style's so fat, it gets [bad word] with a shoe horn
Here's a clearer mirror, dear ya
lookin in nearer, cos I don't fear ya
Some get too souped to the point
where it's still too thick but still lick [bad word] and [bad word] Always want