Last Two lyrics

[Intro: Young Chris]
Yeah
It's dark, Free

[Verse 1: Young Chris & Freeway]
All silence on the hammers I brung
Hear the sirens when the ambulance come
One hand on my nuts, other hand on my gun
Keep that white girl tan, no sun—Free, huh?
I'm 'bout to make n*ggas vacate the place for the rip
Put the sting in his face, I pull it straight from my hip
I'm the opposite of Chris: I be quaking my sh*t (Haha)
n*ggas lift, I'll be making them drip blood, gotta mop up (What!)
Yup! Get shot up from the top up (What)
n*ggas is LV'd down from the socks up
Tear that block up, minute I pull that drop up
Y'all n*ggas can cop up, just don't be calling the cops up
You know what? We don't rock ratchet carriers
Plague like malaria, we will bury your pops fast
Then, we coming for you next, yes
Tell your n*ggas to get dressed 'cause they will have to carry you
Let them know the Philly boys in the area (Ugh)
b*tch I'm daring you, like live radio, airing you
Bullets tearing you flesh, f*cking up your interior (Woo)
Murder you b*tches, I'll make it clear to you—Is you hearing us?
We flamers, Mike Vick couldn't tame us
We Doberman Pinsch n*ggas, pitbull terriers
Y'all inferior, we are Sig Sauer carriers
Leave n*ggas on gurney carriers whenever aiming this
It's the dangerous two, classic, you hear the pain in it (Oww)
All this bullsh*t music, n*ggas should be ashamed of it
Ugh, game ain't been the same since we came in it
Right back, we changing it, you f*cking pups, we taming sh*t
This is real hip-hop
Hear the 2Pac, hear the Big Daddy Kane in it
All bars are hot, you cannot fire-extinguish it (Ugh)
They fade us, translate us through different languages
Or get the stainlesses, dont get us confused with the famous sh*t
We on some "dump the tool, leave ya brains on the pavement" sh*t
Funeral-arranging it (Sawed-off gauging it)
If you pussies ain't ready for war, don't engage in it
You made your bed; now, lay in it (I'll spray in it)
Leave you in a puddle of blood, you gotta bathe in it
Hit his baby mother, his cuz—nobody making it
Your family get the last few (Motherf*cker, we the last two!)
Yeah!
[Verse 2: Beanie Sigel]
Well, f*ck, I'm the first one
To shoot sh*t up, dog or gun it down (Uh-huh)
Walk on up on sh*t, or run it down
Pull a stock on a K, throw a hundred rounds (Ugh)
Won't stop til your box lowered under ground
Put you in an urn, your bones'll burn
The rap gorilla, the wack rap ringtone killa
I'm here; to find a n*gga equally realer is rare
You can meet me in the square if you dare to come near
I have no morals (None)
Just a whole lot of p*ss and a di*k for you, bullets in a clip for you
This is the ignorance (Yeah)
At least it looks that way when you witness it, kill all witnesses
Bury the hatchet; matter-fact, bury your casket (Ugh)
Shoot you up, bury the ratchet (Yeah)
Dig it back up if I have to
I used to bump n*ggas, knock n*ggas out for the practice
The sh*t starter, the sh*t-finisher, I dont know what's harder—
When they release you or when they sentence you
Cold steel could raise a n*gga temperature (Yeah)
Collapse your lungs twist it then push it in you (Ill)
You'll p*ss blood through a catheter (Uh-huh)
Four five slugs feel like a bat contacting you
Swung by B. Bonds with roids in him
B-E number one, who want to bring the noise with me?