Six Bad Brothas

This is roll call homeboy
One
Two bad brothers
Three bad brothers
Four bad brothers
Five bad brothers
Six bad brothers
Ready? Hit it!

Pone, don't Simone on the microphone
You like the sound, don't touch the bass
Don't drop it, you can't stop it, you wish you would
Can't get in the hood, you never could
Good, better than bad, the new fad
But your 64 could never touch my Cad
The granddad, now you call me superior
You know my name, but me, I never hear of ya
R.I.D. or I.D., now say it backwards
D.I.R., Director In Control Respected
You think you're rollin', cot-codin', walkin' around
But the Tribe rise deep, so deep you might drown now
You pick a letter, you picked the R
It's time to face the trendsetter
Never, I'm just too clever, 'cause I'm the gangster
To kill ya, you're the worm and I drink ya
Intoxicated R-Raided with the content
This one's so funky, gotta use it in my concert
You get hurt if you try to revert to any other
From the six bad brothers

Seven bad brothers
Eight bad brothers
Nine bad brothers
Ten

Ten-ten, you give the pen to the henchmen
A kite was shot straight to the hitmen
Six is better than one, but six bad brothers with guns
Pack an 808 kick drum
Bad motherfuckers, six wanted hustlers
Down for the count, we kill you with the muffler
Silence, they said real bad boys move in silence
But the hard loud ones are more violent
I keep strollin' 'cause of the mic I'm holdin'
Sixteen deep, so you know we rollin'
Doin' it like gangstas, rollin' like stars
Bustas beat up girls and talk behind the hard
Hardcore, identical to the last one
All you can do is make beer runs
You got it like this, we got it like that
Man, y'all ain't begot no gat
Boo-Yaa! Tribe is the winning team
(Why you say that?) 'Cause we get the loudest screams
So hold your bitch tight 'cause we're all fighters, not lovers
Yeah, six bad brothers

Seven bad brothers
Eight bad brothers
Nine bad brothers
Ten

Godfather, you think that you get the Tribe?
Na, na-na-na, na
Tell 'em, Tribe
Na, na-na-na, na
Godfather, a bad brother
E-Razdov, a bad brother
K.O.D., a bad brother
E.K.A., a bad brother
O.M.B., a bad brother
Gangster Ridd, a bad brother
To the Tribe, some bad brothers
Yeah, word to the brother

I don't need an application for this rhyme creation
A "Boo-Yaa!" to ya with the bomb reputation
Multiply like a fly, opponents realize
Six bad brothers finna energize
Tell you low rhyme sayer is what you wanna be
I said a rap, it was crap, sounded more like a submarine
Always on the go, known to be a bragger
Goin' straight to all your posses like a 12-inch dagger
Suicidal, emotion will result in disgrace
A rhyme sayer, a player simply settin' the pace
Temperature flare to a certain degree
And like a cold we got symptoms, the signs you will see
The I-Tribe self-analyze and can't be defined
Coordinated, updated with the one-track mind
Yo, the mind (What is the mind?)
The mind is a tool that makes bustas go blind
Manipulator, fader, perpetrator, hater
Innovator, debater, operator, calculator
Rap's cooler and there ain't none cooler
When it come to emcees, Boo-Yaa! the rap ruler

One bad brother
Two bad brothers
Three bad brothers
Four bad brothers
Five bad brothers
Six bad brothers

That's all it takes, homeboy