Parental Discretion (feat. Busta Rhymes)

Aiyyo, I'm hard to talk to
 If you live, I probably thought you stalked you
 Where you walked to at night
 Caught you then tried to extort you
 New York niggaz is trigger happy, got Pataki scared
 This town ain't big enough
 For both of us and I ain't goin' nowhere
 There it is, plain and simple
 Like Jigga, my game is mental
 While slow niggaz better know
 I blow their brains out they temples
 I'm into black magical torture
 Romantic dramatical author, compatible with
 The average New Yorker, a fast talker
 Like Tony, when gas whores I'm the masked enforcer
 Out for the cash and the cho-cha
 Smash the coca, bottle it up watch the fiends, gobble it up
 If I roll up, you do what? Swallow the stuff
 I don't give a fuck anymore
 I'm only twenty-four years old
 And I've already broken every law
 I'm horror core, this is for the heads
 Runnin' up in your crib
 Knot if you still hot in under the bed
 Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes
 Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide
 Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny
 Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey
 Hey yo, my shit's the truth, 150 proof, no question
 Parental discretion advised, keep out the eyes of the youth
 It's too explicit, bullshit, I challenge the statistics
 Violence existed before our music was even suggested
 Arrested on sight, it's like there's no rights
 That's why I rhyme so aggressive and bring every message to life
 I fight the power spite the power the 90 percent
 Keep 10 and feed twin, half for personal reasons
 The seasons change, things rearrange, but I stay the same
 Play the game for the wealth until I've made myself a name
 So blame it all on the gangster rapper, thanks to Joey Crack
 For the chance to do it my way like Frank Sinatra
 I ain't a actor so it's all facts, strictly raw rap
 Totally intended for yours dressed in all black
 with the ski mask, or the pantyhose makin' cameos
 in liquor store cameras with the twin Calico's
 Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes
 Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide
 Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny
 Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey
 Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes
 Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide
 Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny
 Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey
 So forget the boom, one look, you shook, you know I'm stickin' you
 Liftin' you off the ground, look down, that's where I'm puttin' you
 Look in my eyes and remember me, how does it feel mentally
 Havin' the enemy be the last thing you ever see?
 The recipe is death and I'm the chef, fricaseein' your flesh
 Be my guest, but I ain't cleanin' the mess
 Me and TS, we testin' niggaz faith, just to see they face
 Expression when destined to States, that death be in the case
 I'm in the state of grace, in the hated race, by the pagan face
 Couldn't fight us, made a virus, gave us AIDS
 I paint the wake 'cause they ain't get me yet, wet me
 Or reflect me yet, I know they comin' they just tryin' to let me sweat
 I wreck it like when I was just a boy, eatin' chips, ahoy
 Wasn't allowed to raise my voice, now I'm makin' noise
 No more toys, strictly Mac's and missiles, shorties with forties
 Packin' pistols catchin' bodies
 Make sure we'll get you
 So they say, I pray there's a better way
 My kids don't do as I do, they do as I say
 'Cause daddy don't play
 Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes
 Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide
 Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny
 Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey
 Yo, parental discretion advised, please cover your eyes
 Little kids, get out of here, this shits is homicide
 Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny
 Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey
 Word is bond, one thing about MC's is that
 We don't conceal the truth, we present real pictures
 About the positive and the negative, so don't blame
 The hip-hop when your seed is learnin' the real life from us
 Do your duty at home and raise your child in the house
 Parents, you don't do your job we gonna
 Put your children to bed at nine o'clock
 Past your bedtime, you get your ass in bed
 You ain't 'posed to be hearin' this shit
 Word up, punishment motherfuckers
 By the Punisher and Busta Rhymes, hah
 Terror squad, Flipmode squad niggaz