I'm on It - Marco Polo, Ruste Juxx

Ya know what I’m sayin'?

Mafuckas be like, «Yo, I don’t fuck with Rus

That nigga’s mad grimy, man

He always on that Crown Heights, Brooklyn bullshit, man»

Stick 'em up, keep 'em up, give it up — easy

Big guns in the heezy, you real freezy

My niggas breezy, feezy, no reezy

So take that shit off slow and be breezy

(Poof) — Gone with the Wind

It’s either that or eat a whole cartridge, chrome to ya chin

These shells don’t taste like Velveeta

These shells hotter than a motherfuckin' heater

Like the bass bangin' out your motherfuckin' speaker

Your brains would be hangin' out your motherfuckin' beaker

Muppet ass niggas ain’t animal

Talk a lot of hot shit, like you ain’t flamable

Rappers can’t fuck with me, I don’t need Ruck with me

Bet I got a steel and attack that’d buck with me

Just that ruthless, life’s so useless

No more cryin' with your bullshit excuses

You’re done

Roll schoma and a dutch

Your mama is a slut

You don’t want drama

Cock the llama, nigga what

That Crown Heights Brooklyn bullshit I’m on it

Yeah yeah I’m on it

Anybody want it they can get it automatic

Automatic or semi — homie you can have it

Nigga came home flagged out had it

Bitch you rat it, you a faggot, fuck you

I ain’t never trust you, son look suspect

Like a the east side of a horse going west

Think about it while i rape the rhythm

Take a pull, percolate the 'ism

I brake through walls, knock doors of hinges

Snatch rich niggas out of drop top Benz’s

Niggas couldn’t see me through telescope lenses

I don’t follow them I set trendses

Young rap cop the respect of OG

Before I blast choppers, eject the Uzi

Trust — you don’t wanna make me angry

Big steel chains couldn’t restrain me I’m a beast

Roll schoma and a dutch

Your mama is a slut

You don’t want drama

Cock the llama, nigga what

That Crown Heights Brooklyn bullshit I’m on it

Yeah yeah I’m on it

I see the fear in his eyes he went so sleep 'fore I hit him

The pastor said it was fucked up how I did him

Slid him under a truck, one-hitter quitter

Tryin' to get gangster on Twitter (Computer thugs)

Exactly what I would expect from trash rappers

For Hip Hop, out of respect I smash rappers

Put 'em out they misery, send 'em up the upper room

Knock-knock, who?

Death motherfucker boom

Marco Polo got that bump for ya boombox

From the hood, to the 'burbs to the boondocks

From the Caddy’s to the Jeeps to the sport cars

Strip joints, for the clubs and the sports bars

My name ringin' like Big Ben at twelve-noon

Shootin' mark brand niggas straight to hell soon

As you hear the baseline and the first rhyme

You stand froze like you witnessin' the worst crime

Roll schoma and a dutch

Your mama is a slut

You don’t want drama

Cock the llama, nigga what

That Crown Heights Brooklyn bullshit I’m on it

Yeah yeah I’m on it