* [Intro]
Yeah, where you think you goin. Where you think you goin.
Ladies and gentlemen, it's the unit for the 9-8.
Flipmode Squad baby. That's my word.
All you sucker MC's, try to hide this stuff. Come back here.
Where you think you goin, nigga. Come back here.
Y'all niggaz ain't seein Jack. Shit !!!

[Verse 1: Baby Sham]
Aiiyo, speak the truth.
Too short to let it hurt. Some talk dirt, and be the first slangin hertz.
Freestylin of the hum of the birds.
Fall back when I shine on my shine, two shows follow behind.
It's a fucked up vehicle. Switchin my lines.
Hotel asks a nigga: "Could I share my dimes".
Picture that, when you scared to draw toes.
Playin me close.
Rollin with the dogs wearin yesterdays clothes.
Left a fouled sin into my squad without permition.
I started dissin, hopin you listen. Pay attention.
Fatheresly. The shadow leads you back to the hood.
You wanna switch up because some niggas stalked you up.
Or is the fact that they thought you was rollin with us.
Left you all draged, like two trains crashin it up.

[Verse 2: Spliff Starr]
Aiiyo, Spliff Starr drama, bullpen personna
Type of nigga that would sell cr
In My Mind lyrics



Imagine seeing him all the time,
Holding another hand.
She's starin' me down,
So I figure that he told her who I am.
But it don't matter either way,
What they do or say cause aint nothin' changed.
He's standing with her, but his soul is calling out my name.

In my mind, I'll always be his lady.
In my mind, I'll always be his girl.

Saw his momma just the other day,
Said he'd been through a spell.
Had a bad break up, thinks he's on his way up, it's hard to tell.
She said I think it'd do some good if you called him ever
ack to your mama
Take the cash you gave me and buy marijuana
Check me boy, in some turbo (?)
Back in the days I bubble drugs like a sauna
Make a pussy boy kill himself like Nirvana
Get'em like goose feathers, cold weather rock the bamma
Lie in front of the jury, D.A., and Your Honor
I represent street niggas, carry heat niggas
Play for keeps niggas, ain't nothin 'bout me sweet, niggas
I stay token, gun butt your skull open
If you fuck wit my squad nigga where you think you goin?

[Chorus]
Where you think you goin.
Where you think you goin.
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga.
Where you think you goin.
Where you think you goin.
Where you think you goin.
Aiiyo, what you movin for.
Where you think you goin.
Where you think you goin.
Where you think you goin
Aiiyo, what you doin nigga.
Where you think you goin.

[Verse 3: Busta Rhymes]
You think that you can run (ha)
You think that you can hide (haa)
You best believe you still comin. I think you better slide.
While you stay bitchin, another nigga missin.
Bodies snatch you up.! Behold the cream. .
Cought in hells kitchen. My trigger fingers itchin.
Nervous system's fucked up.
That's why my nerves twitchin.
Inslave you
Ck Killer lyrics

I was born an amputee inside hereWho can't turn and pledge allegianceWe just fall inline  we just fall behindWe default your procreationWe default your assassinationParalysedWe're paralysedWe are born from you-we've come toCalvin Klein's the killerThey want to - look like youCalvin Klein's the killerThis fashion is a warning signYou were shot for your divisionWe just fall behind  we just fall inlineParalysedWe're paralysedCause Calvin Klein's the killerVersace now is the killerCalvin 
r mentality. Nigga brain fried.
We after you, runnin sergeon for a free ride.
Where you think you goin son ?
We gon' catch you soon.
We here to take over this shit.
Pour the tycoon.
Blossom and gloom. Capture any nigga sober in a little dark room.
Ha ha ha ha ha.

[Verse 4: Rah Digga]
Uh oh. You lil league boy I know your beats.
You sound bullshitely, You rock .
Swearin you to ball, when you know you're wack.
In a studio settin of a reverands track.
Boy ! Rah gets busy, my shit be way slaver.
Curder rapper Ernest like the one slave labour.
One first be like the bitch tap oil.
Loyal to my niggas. Enemies are fucked around, and riders rappin for you.
Spot stays blowin. Goin' to the top.
Where you think you're goin.
Pocket stay throwin. Smooth like the lowin.
Rap chick flowin.
Where you think you're goin.

Chorus

[Verse 5: Rampage]
I'm a hard man at work.
Lyrical expert.
Look out before you get hurt.
Bury the dirt. Line for line.
Ramp I be the mastermind.
That's be full time watch me shine.
I know the seven sign.
I'm rich, and still life is a bitch.
Losin' snitch like camey fake beggar.
Jim Baker. I take you're life like the undertaker.
Flipmode money-make
Almost Medieval lyrics

There's something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
I'm moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Soft lenses
Grow to glasses
Small world
Dimly seen through cataracts
Your program
Newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it se
r, make that kill for this paper.
It's on the poppin.
People wanna know when the album droppin.
Start talkin. Keep walkin.
Flatbush New York and we live for you.
Sling for you.
My squad struck oil.
Now we coppin platinum things.
Diamond rings. Nice cosy things.
And a party for free.
From the tunnel to envy.
Ramp's the rugged MC.
My squad ke! eps growin.
Where you think you goin.

[Verse 6: Lord have Mercy]
Chief gunnin to.
Splash rain potters pooves.
Fuck is you. Start stand peach.
Chuff for choose.
Scoffer booves.
Now low muscles moves.
Smash crew like statue with jungle jewels.
Son gets school, wit the dummin crew.
Pay double dues. Cradle to the graves, hustle grooves.
Flesh tissue. Death kiss you. No love for you.
Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
And me the most wanted fool.
Unfriendly in horrical, make power moves.
Snatch colors loose. A  dollar rule.
Raw business shit in my hands, and shakes yours with it.
Till you cause fridget.
Local or long distance.
Gets master served.
And crash a burn
Like James Evans when I'm blowin.
Fuck is wrong wit cha.
Where you think you're goin.
Where you think you're goin.
Where you think you're goin.

Chorus (*Fades*)