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[John Cena]
We keep it hoppin like the cars with the shocks
We spittin heat on your block
We new to the game, but runnin the spot
Numbin your knot, with basslines that'll make ya neck break
This rook'll take your queen and put ya king in checkmate
Open your mind without makin ya meditate
We real champs; y'all just featherweight
Time to get it straight, I push your wig back
Crew loaded up with extra bread like a Big Mac
Beefin with us? We're leavin you face down
Stompin bitch rappers like I'm straight outta A-Town
Runnin the playground like it was a track meet
Shoes on the whip that be bigger than Shaq's feet
We into big things, bank account's overgrown
All types of cheese - swiss, cheddar, provolone
Guaranteed to burn wax like candles
Track hittin hard to the head like shots of Jack Daniels
[Chorus John Cena]
Y'all, bitch, crews, don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound, to, lose, another one bites the dust
Y'all, bitch, crews, don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound to lose, another one bites the dust
HATA BİLDİR
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