M.U.G. lyrics

[Verse 1: O.C.]
Penicillin on wax, the cure for rap, uh
Crooklyn Dodger Number Two back on the map
Perhaps you thought I was gone, well, surprise, n*gga!
Not physically, but I’m a massive figure
Al Pacino status, the baddest, exotic
Repetition like an automatic, can’t stop it
High potent, pulsating like coke-snorting
When I was a fetus, moms thought about aborting
Important, am I? Gotta ask myself
But then I think twice like a Gemini
Authentic percentage, calculating
My mind state equals infinite
Bizarre, pa, ain’t it?
Flow lethal like Drano, lava from a volcano
Scorching, torching the microphone, I lost it
Popping sh*t, who got my back?
Freddie Foxxx with the twin millies, burn your temporal lobe
Ayo, Foxxx, f*ck these n*ggas, slice ‘em up like an ox, pop

[Verse 2: Freddie Foxxx]
Yeah, OK, it’s time to bring these rap cats from Fantasy Isle
I bring it to these fake n*ggas with a TEC and a smile
You know my stid-dyle
America’s most feared entertainer, yeah
From New York to Cali, I’m called an acid-rainer
While you fronting like you balling, son, I stays in the mix
Same bullets in your burner since ’76
Act like you can’t tell
sh*t be live as hell, busting so many shots
When my shells hit the ground, it sound like Rock the Bells
Call me Bumpy Knuckles ‘cause my hands be swell
From knocking n*ggas out from the lies they tell
Oh well, I bet you feel me all up in your chest
I make the softest n*gga catch a body, blame it on stress
And if he snitch, I bail him out and murder his b*tch
And then sedate him with my four-pound clap
sh*t’s only rap, but I’m living like that
So while n*ggas be talking like dogs and walking like cats
n*ggas’ mouths is getting way too fat
But O.C. and big Fid-Oxxx
We’re ‘bout to bring it back
[Bridge: Sample with Scratches by DJ Premier]
Let’s go back
I’m telling it just like that

[Hook: O.C. & Freddie Foxxx]
We be money underground, but you can’t get none
‘Cause if you step into my realm, you’ll be one dead son
We get love where n*ggas be scared to come
And we got a whole lot to give, but you don’t want none

[Verse 3: O.C., Freddie Foxxx, and Both]
Yeah, yeah
Any n*gga play high-post, I’m rolling over
O.C. weigh tons like a f*cking Range Rover
Telling n*ggas to their face that the façade is over
Now it’s time for this real n*gga sh*t, can you feel this? (Yeah)
No question, we’re manifesting what we feel, bust up
In your session, smack n*ggas up like adolescents
Like at D&D, I can’t see a gang or no-motherf*cking-body seeing me
That’s just pure fantasy
True indeed, son, we ain’t the ones
While n*ggas going out like that, we bring it on like Scarface
That means murder case,I bring highs to any base
Disrespect the closed session and your ass gets laced
So all of these beats and these rhymes attached
Mean that real n*ggas on the mic, bringing it back
It’s mad potent like good crack, it’s type addictive
All up in your mind, you don’t want hard times
[Hook: O.C. & Freddie Foxxx]
We be money underground, but you can’t get none
‘Cause if you step into my realm, you’ll be one dead son
We get love where n*ggas be scared to come
And we got a whole lot to give, but you don’t want none

[Outro: Freddie Foxxx]
What?