Tekst:
Banda Skill

, reappear-pear, off in Cali And you feel me daddy, proudly I done stalk like a mad man And went through shit in Cleveland with the band Now look at

I shit on the petty I baseball bat a bastard, I'm bad news I'm crazy and clever, cut those of crews Death on the phono, my skills are Polo You say "Oh

Pun spoke, ain't no more debatin' my Squad been waitin' For the perfect time to give you what you all been waitin' An orgination of veterans built With genuine skills

heat is back The teacha's back, the heat is back Had to chill for a minute so you could see what was whack Rappers enter the game to increase they stack No skill

. Making lunch for the baseball bunch, while playing violin. Feeding bands to giant clams, that's where the fun begins. cantaloupes and cowboy ropes, hone those whittleing skills

, now it's over The game shut down, sorry It's over, it's over, now move over It's my turn, now it's over The game shut down, sorry I went from canapes to boards Bands

yourself callin' my bluff, enoughs enough I'm puttin' it down on the real end This one goes out to all the people who be questionin' My skills, niggas

And I'm 'a keep my pants saggin' Keep a skateboard, a spray can for the taggin' And I'm 'a keep a lot of girls on my band wagon 'Cause I don't give

a loser I am a super star-a f.a.b.o I do it like tacara (f.a.b.o) cause yall sum dylon hoes try to fuck up ma band I fucks with nylon hoes I got tha