[Produced by Ahk 2Gs]

[Intro]
Uhu, uhu, yeah, it's that joint
One of my favorite Harlem pitches
Juice Record Crew
*It's Friday, Double-O versus Head ICe
Get your weight up, not your hate up
That's why I move weight, cause you hate us, nigga
Let's get into that Loaded Lux, Murda Mook, True or False, you heard?
Huh? True, false. You can be false or true, you can be true or false
You know what I'm saying? Who are you?*

*Wishing like hell that you'd be there, and hoping to God that you wouldn't.*

[Verse 1: Loaded Lux]
While I'm watching every rapper watching me closely
Caught in limbo, thinking maybe order jimbo's or just grab me a kimbo
Huh, now we see how done get the memo
N-Y willie, he's coming out of the N-O
But bar for bar, let me give 'em a little info
Lux and Mook on the track, you already know what you're in fo'
I done seen the comments now, predicting which way the wind go
As long as you open the window, who cares which way the wind blows
Chronic and indo, brunette or bimbo
Sega, Genesis and Nintendo, I put that thing down like tempo
Oh, you're smoking? I clip rats like I put out roaches
No joking, I send professionals at those that's karaoking
You bumped your head, last opponent, the battle loaded
Came the closest, felt shorter than Gary Coleman
I'm back in motion like some travel lotion, streets is greezy
How competition with the rappers going Murda?, "easy"
Don't understand, same dudes that's buying your brand
Get inspired again and get for trying your hands
Like diving in a dam, dying for your fans
When they gone learn you don't mix the lions with the lambs?
That minor, the manager jumped out of the fried pan
And into the fire land that's hot as Sahara sands
Cold as the brightest branch, sit it out and be cool
Or stay corrected like orthopedic shoes, watch your move, nigga

*I'm saying that New York rappers were calling southern rappers lame
And kept jacking our slain? Is it true or false? False!
I'm saying that niggas here in the South, that can burn niggas up here alive
Is it true or false? False!*

[Verse 2: Murda Mook]
Loaded Lux, they know what's up when we're rolling up
Only the best smoking out Dutch, them niggas smoking dust
Soul Kid's your favorite artist like he said
It's December 25th, we tear them rappers to shreds
Listen, it's a gift for you to be in our presence
We certified, them boys only acting like legends
Motherfuckers is fronting, talking about what they pumping
The only thing they be pumping is keeping their engine running
Niggas is midgets stunting, I wanted get into something
If you're getting so much money, why is your niggas suffering?
The next one to steal my style and play dumb
I'ma start talking with my hands, I ain't hearing nothing
I'm thinking 'bout my fam, then I'm thinking: more paper
Cause they're the ones that want me to win like storm chasers
Lux had a hurricane up in sleeve and I'm still standing
Moving y'all should be a breeze
A lot of guys join hater.com, alarmed on frequently
When they heard I got signed
Guess they was mad that it was me
Instead of them, which I can understand
Cause they ain't want me to be ahead of them
So they downplay your shit on everything I'ma ever end
But on the contrare, they should want me to fucking win
Cause if I get in this game and then flop
Probably be the last time a better rapper get a shot
Think about it!

*We would do this rap shit, it's like if it wasn't for New Orleans
There wouldn't have been no Harlem Renaissance with gats
You understand what I'm saying? I pay respect where respect is due!*