Lyrics Frontline - Ice Cube , MC Ren

"Man, Dub, I don't even think they even believe in the Barracuda, Man!
I think they doubting!"

Basslines affect me, niggas respect me
Cause my flows is deadly and I'm a Connect G
And they know I'm ready cause my gun's directly
Right where their neck be and I'll make the TEC breathe

Climbing out of the manhole
With three creases in my flannel
The party's over, blow out the candles

Bitch niggas to the back
Throw your hands up and guard yours
Cause in the front I just wanna see the hardcore

Now look, ninety-nine point nine point nine per cent gonna be all on my dick
Like I spit when I drop this shit
That other 1 per cent is gonna be yelling "Boo!"
On the Internet talking shit and hiding like you

Faggot ass niggas
Aiming the thing, thing to leave you brainless
Snatching bikinis off you fake gangsters

Spank you, bank you lamesters all you all pranksters
Impatiently waiting to shank you I've been so anxious
Nigga back to grip the pistol ripping a (shut your mouth!) instrumental
Still that four fingers up two twisted in the middle

Round two letting off another round fool!
Here comes Sasquatch in a pair of blue house shoes
WC, crashing kicking the glass, back at last
And all y'all can kiss my crusty black ass

I'm on some other shit
Two thousand and ten star child with the gauge bailing out the mother ship
Got a gang of weed and I'm a smoke all of it
Twenty years in the game and I ain't even started yet

Stocking caps, Chucks, that's the WC starter kit
Who want to see me on this walk twenty thousand start the bid
A double-O schizo at my own concert
In the bathroom ask a nigga what they hitting for

And if I crap out then nigga clear the floor
Cause I keep a .44 down to make sure they getting low
The kind of nigga pumping fluid in a '64
Yelling fuck security! shooting up your disco

Go broke? Shit no!
It's either rap or pitch dope
That's why every mic booth I heat it up like Crisco
I'm in the Crips Ford XT tipping slow with your baby mama
Pulling up to the liquor store

Out of South Central
Me and CT the West coast audio two time villain like Gizmo
WC spit the kill flow
Ask Game ask Kurupt who the big homie that can still go
Get with Dub? No for real Loc you got a better chance of
Stevie Wonder making a fifty yard field goal

Rough like Brillo, head real low
Send my love to Cool J but ladies love me like a dildo
Dub a kill mode, sleep on me if you want
I'm like a loaded gun with the safety off under the pillow
Rags, braids, sets in the air
I represent all that ignorant shit you niggas scared of

Got a big stack, Ds on the Cadillac
But fuck the brag rap I spit the brown bag rap I'm that
Disrespectful ass nigga twisting on a zag
Walking in the club smacking bitches on they ass
And got a rusty corkscrew and broken OE bottle
Just in case the brave nigga with her want to play Geraldo

Bullet tips hollow
Dub will make your head bobble
Ghetto artist draw from the hip like Picasso
I'm Picasso in a hanky-patterned house robe
Known for drawing two barrels that blow like nostrils

Dub's out of control and got a lot of flows
Keep the Rosé bitches __ __ __ __ __
Looking for some cash Rat? Take your glass back
Cause over here a nigga's nasty like ass crack

Turn your hearing aid up what's wrong with you?
If you ain't sucking of fucking tonight you got the wrong nigga
I'm in there doing a lot of things your nigga won't do
Like putting you on a highway with a gang of niggas on you

Them other rap niggas trick a lot of loot
I just want to fuck you and break you
And treat you like a prostitute
And I don't want to kiss, I just want to touch the enz
Dub the gutter kid motherfuckers know what it is

The ground pounder, Chevy scraper after the paper
And in a squab' I'm good with the hands like a masturbator
Smashing haters, cater to niggas who sag in Taylors
Gang sign translator, sucker nigga assassinator
The casket layer, 'hood navigator
Look what you done gone me on Toones
You should have never grabbed the fader
Harassinator, Wester with nav crusader
Like Mayweather I'm tired of messing with you bums
I'm moving my weight up
I 'K you slay you spray you put your spirits in a cloud in the air
Have your body on the ground surrounded by flares, see?

It's back to the basics, so I'm closing my book
With laughter, and putting a lid on the chapter
And all you sentimental rappers
Take money, take pussy, fuck all that soft shit
I'm capping at your car Bitch, y'all niggas garbage

Dub the urban vet Mandingo fuck with me I'll have
You leaving the fight limping with your turtle neck wrinkled

I know it's a couple of niggas that can swing 'em
But show me a nigga with muscles I show you something that can shrink 'em
Dirty ones, big ones believe me I ain't scared
Dub will pick one, any one, got 357 of 'em

Nah, what's really what's cracking
I'm really with a TEC and
Really with niggas gattin'
Don't be talking loud but really be rapping
Really the fact is the nine milli' I really be packing

Cause y'all all lights and cameras I'm ready with the action
When I'm on? No this is really just a fraction
A freestyle for the top of the year
Like Primo I'm calling it a Premier

But don't worry the Barracuda's back taking the room
WC and Crazy Toones motherfucker stay tuned!