Lyrics
Pick up to six lines to make a card.
Intro
Aah... Lord Infamous the motherfucking Scarecrow
In the hizzouse, ya bitch
And you punk-ass motherfuckers finna get beat the fuck down
Hook/Samples
Broke him down to his very last compound!
Suckers try to block: The Haymakers I swing
W-When some clown jumps up to get beat down!
Verse 1: Lord Infamous
I got some brass knuckles for the bitch who try to fuck with me
Got a steel toe for the nigga who try to duck me
Walls stained with brains, from the bitch that owe me
Say she got some static, slip and get that tag on the toe, see
I ain't the type of motherfucker that real filled with that ana'
I'm the type of motherfucker that fill you full of the ammo
These suckers be claimin' they servin' and sprayin'
Them bitches, I blow out they candle
I handle the shit like that, Scarecrow ain't for no hoe games
For the ones that didn't know: Scarecrow brain's kinda strange
Aim my pistol, strike it dead on the nostril
Bitch don't test the Scarecrow, 'cause the Scarecrow kinda hostile
Sock yo' ass with a buckshot in yo' wind pipe
What the fuck is a fair fight? Scarecrow tryin' to take yo' life
Stomp you in yo' face, 'til there's no light and no sound
Look at you now, just another punk beat down
Verse 2: DJ Paul
I aimin' for yo' face, so that's where the bullets will go
Niggas be talkin' the shit on these tapes, but they don't do it in the streets, so
I hang with my rap group named "The Serial Killaz"
And do all of my dirt with the Backyard, my real n-izz-iggas
'Cause when somethin' goes down, our whole crew gotta clown
Shoot one, you gotta shoot 'em all, and still you gotta leave town
But see, the killers don't play in the nina-trae, listen to the words I say:
Bring it on, nigga, bring it on, nigga, this way
And watch that shit you be talkin' of be put to an end, trick
Bring yourself, your family and your groupie friends that be
Talkin' on your tape, and sing you got some animosity
But your ass can't tell, 'cause in the streets you never say none to me
We thicker than concrete, that's why we be runnin', clown
Different hoods come together, that'll beat all of you down
And Backyard niggas love to clown on tricks like you
That's why you get beat down
Verse 3: Lord Infamous
Cruisin' through the Down Town blocks, Red Bull in my lap
Paul steer and I'm loadin' the gats, I'm ready to spit some fucking cap, now
I heard them bitch-ass niggas been talkin' all that shit again
Fuck all them mixtape diss, and finna put them busters to they end
They don't know Scarecrow is on the r-izz-eal
Paul let's hit them faggot motherfuckers up, I'm ready
But stop at the store, let me get some beer and papers
Let's get tore up on this crop, before we give these niggas the favor
I passed the brew to the backseat, Napoleon grabs it
Him and Lil Buck in the back, they loadin' automatics
Thinkin' about they "Summer Mix", gettin' pissed off what they said
Damn, now I really wanna cut them bitches head
They dead, I see them bitches y'all, yo, let's get 'em Paul
Pull down yo' mask, and make sure you get 'em all
This ain't no bullshit, take you motherfuckers down
Duck yo' head, watch yo' back, bitch occupy
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