Leave Your Style Cramped

Mom Duke...

[Hook]
[I'll leave your style cramped, my crew can't be touched] [x2]

Anything PMD touch is going
Niggas be like Slow Flow's flowing
Creep without you niggas knowing
From Brentwood boondocks
To Brooklyn yo my tune knocks
Blowing watts, so what’s the deal, hops?
Parish Smith, I does this
No time to reminisce
In 9 -6 blow the dice and let 'em roll kid
4-5-6 posing for hardcore flicks and shit
Mad niggas on the dick

[Hook]

I gots to represent never hesitant
Niggas all quiet, bitched up like a convict
Yo, so what’s the deal with the million dollar man?
You know the hand, the Benz plus the green Land
It ain’t all about the loot, I does this for my troops
Put my niggas up on the real scoop
Gots to represent Moms, word bond
Run through lines of MCs like a shine
Salaam, a don, mad personality
My crew be catching casualties
So when you yes, yes, ya’lling
You better watch who's name you calling
Timber, you falling
Calling my name, calling my fame
Coming off the scene low in the cut, hitting my bitch Jane
Clocking the mental, keeping it simple
Dropping the rhymes and flipping instrumentals
That's is how it’s going down
From 1996 to motherfucking 2000