Flava

[Nick Cannon]
Black Squad, come out and play
N'Credible!

[Verse 1: Charlie Clips & Nick Cannon]
Yo, yo
Black Squad the best squad, no need to repeat it
Don't make me call my killa up, my hitman is Conceited
He be wildin' out, whether he's sober or weeded
And he bring the cannon for me whenever I need it, facts
So break fast before I grip that can of biscuit
If you around when I shoot, then gotta jam the witness
What you movin'? Pounds? Ounces? Your grams is vicious?
Nigga, please; your weight cheap, like Planet Fitness, ha
Matter of fact, let's switch the topic
These niggas talk about five O's but never cop it
Wait, you caught that? 5-0, but never cop it?
Damn, my whole team blackin' out, we goin' gothic
Your baby moms loves my name, she hear the gossip
She treat me like a floor with a janitor, gotta mop it
No matter what you do, my nigga, she can't stop it
Like the kids game, she twist, pull it, and bop it
She slow-motioned on a nigga since a juvenile
That's why I'm drillin' in her mouth like a root canal
Forgot my next line, I feel stupid now
My six sing, New Edition, nigga, cool it now
Chill, Nick, you ain't even gotta do 'em foul
Let me do the shootin' 'cause you shootin' movies now

[Verse 2: Nick Cannon]
Aight, teasey, more bitches
Your girl coochie? (Mmm) Delicious (Ha-ha)
He bought a deuce-deuce and think he good
Fuck outta here, our guns big as Suge (Knight)
Had to take over Hollywood, and not a hood (Right)
Sayin' I look like a genie, wish a nigga would (Christ)
Call your bitch Ms. Bobsled how she pushin' wood
She got that bomb head, and that pussy good
That's what Con' said, I'll never fuck that bomb bitch (no)
See your window, all his hoes go to my do'
And if they ugly, fuck off my flo'
Is it really just them haters that's all in your ear?
Or could it be my diamonds as flawless and clear?
That pussy was a day, I had an incredible year

[Interlude: Nick Cannon]
Get it? That pussy was a day?
Nigga, that's 365 bitches, nigga!
And an extra bitch on leap year!
Ayo, Con', you ain't fuckin' with me

[Verse 3: Conceited]
It must be the cash that I carry in the bag
Big green faces, Jim Carrey in a mask
And these other rappers all are spittin' sloppy
They thinking they on fire, I'mma call 'em Ricky Bobby (I'm on fire!)
I'm in ya lobby, gon' let the pump blam
Bucks jam, cans on my waist like Duffman
You goin' to the coroner, that's the cut man
When I come with the sweeper like a dustpan
You'll get a suntan talkin' all the crap, I'm strapped
The barrel be on your hat, that's a Cubs fan
Like the Jumpman, I got her with her legs open
Kill her knees when I blaze it, now that's Greg Oden
That's a lie if you thinkin' that I'm packin' knives
Got the big nose in my jeans like the Jackson 5
Hey, Nick, that was a good punchline
But your girl let me bang with the stick: Drumline
(You're salty)

[Interlude: Nick Cannon]
Alright, enough with the jokes
We real serious
We bringing that heavy artillery
Y'all know his name, all the way from St. Louis — Hitman Holla!

[Verse 4: Hitman Holla]
Livin' life, bust down Rollie, drippin' ice
Don't trust a soul, I'm rhin' grippin' the Smith n' tight
Main bitch bad, my side piece pimpin' nice (Whoo!)
We ain't the same, I'm cut different, thicker knife
Look, stop the dissin'
I'm not allowed back on Delta (Why?)
They say I'm fly enough to be the competition
Listen closely, if I said it, I mean it
I'm skatin' around with all this ice, like I play for the Penguins
Your girl love me, every night she lay with my penis
She get me hard as concrete, then she play with my semen, genius
Look, my mind on another level (It is)
My flow deep, to dig it, you'll need a couple shovels (Word)
They gon' feel mine, gettin' money is my real sign
I might fly to London just to kill time
Black Squad, we the new don clique (Uh-huh)
Between me, Con', and Clips, your chick got hit
I ain't mention Nick because that chance one hundred percent (One hunnid)
I would put you on gang, but I got money to get
Black Squad