Parental Discretion

Big Punisher;Busta Rhymes

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Lyrics

Ayo, I'm hard to talk to, if you live, I probably fought you Stalked you where you walked to at night Caught you, then tried to extort you New York niggas is trigger-happy, cop a tacky stare The 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 Plus slow niggas better know I blow they 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 he gassed Sosa The masked enforcer, out for the cash and the chocha 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 horrorcore, this is for the heads Running up in your crib, not if you still hiding under the bed Parental discretion advised, cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, it's child homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Ayo, much is the truth? Hundred-fifty 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, spike the powder, the ninety percent Keep ten, and feed Twin half for personal reasons The seasons change, things rearrange, but I stay the same I played the game for the wealth until I 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 an actor, so it's all facts, strictly raw rap Totally uncensored for y'all dressed in all black With the ski mask, or the pantyhose, making cameos In liquor store cameras with the twin Calicos Parental discretion advised, cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, it's child homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Parental discretion advised, cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, it's child homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey I'm so predictable, one look, you're 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, rip your skin And your flesh, be my guest, but I ain't cleanin' the mess Me and TS bust rest in niggas' face just to see they face Expression, we destined to state that death be in the case I'm in a state of grace in a hated race By the ink in face, couldn't fight us, made a virus, gave us AIDS I paved the way 'cause they ain't get me yet, wet me or affect me Yet I know they comin', they just tryna let me sweat I recollect 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 MACs and missiles, shorties with forties Packin' pistols, catchin' bodies makes you official 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 Parental discretion advised, cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, it's child homicide Drugs and money, this ain't no Bugs Bunny Little girls too, this ain't for you, it's for the thugs, honey Parental discretion advised, cover your eyes Little kids, get out of here, it's child 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 MCs 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 gon' Put your children to bed at nine o'clock Past bedtime Get your ass to bed, you ain't 'posed to be hearin' this shit Word up, punishment, motherfuckers By the Punisher and Busta Rhymes Terror Squad, Flipmode Squad, nigga