Who's Next (X-Clue-Sive) - DJ Clue, DMX

When its on

Its on

You motherfuckers done lost your mind!

Its another one of those

Ahh man (New DMX!)

Another one of them, Clue slash X joints (Who's Next!)

Another one of them off the motherfucking hook joints

Bulldog, call a bulldog!

(Whaaaat!)

When I creep through

Niggas is see through

Just like negligee

Ain’t no talkin cause there ain’t much that the dead can say

Long as I’m walking I be strappin my dogs (Whoooo-hooo!)

Rackin the hogs

Desert Eagle packin the morgues

Metal slabs with yellow tags on toes it’s

What happens to those that

Chose to be foes and

Bet his man knows

But yo, we only get stronger

And the amount of time we’re facing is only gettin longer

Get the mayor on the horn!

(Clue!)

It’s time for shit to go down

Strapped for the show down

Wet up yo crib, kick the door down

Know you schemin' so I gots to get you first

Put you right up in a brand new hearse

Could be worse

Shoulda seen what I gave this nigga

Two vests couldn’t save this nigga

The way I laid this nigga

Played this nigga

But thats what I’m good at

Layin niggas out in fightin' pits and fuckin' hoodrats (Ha ha!)

Where’s my fuckin' hood at?

Cripple niggas like switches

Rip on niggas like bitches

Then pour niggas in ditches

They ain’t found half the bodies that a nigga caught

Or should I say a nigga bought

Cause ain’t nothing like getting' paid for, a nigga sport

Triple what a nigga thought

But thats just how shit be

I know that one day they gon' try that shit wit me

But just as long as I’m on top of shit

You ain’t stoppin shit

And ain’t a motherfucker droppin' shit

If it ain’t ruff it ain’t me *Uhh, c’mon*

If it ain’t ruff it ain’t D *Uhh*

M to the X

Most y’all niggas is strait sex What?

(*shots fired*)

Next?!

Plenty of niggas know dirty is how I do 'em

Put buck shots, from a thirty right through 'em

Cause ain’t none of y’all muh’fuckers built for war

And I lay down the law (Clueminati!)

When I spray down the door

Fuck around on my name will be 95-B-64−11

On a three-and-a-half to seven

When even up north I put niggas to waste

So you wanna stop the violence?

Get the fuck out my face!

Parole before peeps hit the board off

Bitches is fuckin but I sleep with the sawed off

I got shit to do, rules to break, crews to break

Before the news to break, I got dudes to take

I don’t joke cause Jokers is cards

And cards are what I pull

Infra red with the clip full

No leash on the pitbull (Ha ha!)

That shit is hot like the wax off a candle stick

But how I handle shit

Is to dismantle shit

De-de-de-de-de

Like Popeye when it’s Spinach time (Clue!)

Runnin' through two niggas like the tape at the finish line

What’s your crew, gonna do when I put the pressure on

And it hurts, wannabe gangstaz in skirts

And the bitches comin' all out them niggas

One false move and their moms’ll read about them niggas

And they wives’ll be without them niggas

Matter of fact, I’m tired of talkin money

Throw your joints up, scrap, bitch (Ha ha!)

(DJ Clue)

(DJ Clue!)

Niggas won’t creep in the streets with me

(Desert Storm!)

Cause you know what fuckin with these streets would be

The Professional Part 2!

Muh’fucker!

(Ha ha!)

Uhh, huh-uh (Fat shout — my nigga Ray! DMX! My nigga D-Wha!)

Pa-pa-pa-pa nigga!

(Yo Ruff Ryders! Word up!)