Yesh Yesh Y’all Redman

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[Into]
This is for the real—real—niggas
Yo!
[Verse 1]
Hard beats like this keep my mentality raw
I G off C4 lyrics to blow off those Lex doors
My texture be the kind that explore MCs
And blow 'em out, metaphor after metaphor
I'm more wetter than your boy vigor
So how you figure you can fuck with this rap unemployed nigga?
I should own a fly bitch, house, and a Benz
But I got chickenheads, criminals, and broke friends
That love to get ends, keep the seventeens spinnin'
Pull out from my jaw linin', commence to splittin'
Brains and body parts that motion couldn't picture
'Cause when I'm shitting, niggas hit more decks than a skipper
Mr. and Mrs. Howe, Mary-Anne and Ginger
Gilligan, you need the Professor to take the rigor...
Mortis out, I got orders to kill 'em softly (Uh-huh)
I wouldn't leave a trace if I died and police chalked me
Who's the boss, G? You better radio the walkie-talkie (Ugh)
For these Fatal Attrac MC's that stalk me (Uh-huh)
Got a big dick in your bitch clit
When I flip this, I got more work than a Olympic gymnast
Bust it, I cut the mustard on any track
Milkier than Similac when I'm next up to bat
Redman is on the mic and I'ma... (Dope motherfucker)
Yeah, you best ask somebody