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Going For The Throat lyrics

Hey yo Craig
(What up, man?)
Yo, this sucker tried to dis you in a magazine
(It s like that, word?)
Yo, I think you should get him
(I take care of it)

[ VERSE 1 ]
Yo, I got beef, and this beef is on my mind
Since it s on my mind, let me put it in a rhyme
It seems a brother that I went way back with
Is coming out the woodwork talking shit
At first it didn t mean all that
Cause he was washed up and strung out on crack
Freebase, his life was a waste to the rap world
Nobody cared about him or his wack girl
So yo, I took it in stride
And continued with the rest of my life
Until recently he showed some form of indecency
When in a magazine he tried to release on me
But now it s the last straw
I m gonna wreck him, and anything he stands for
Point blank - Shan, you suck
And I m about to nail your coffin shut
Juice Crew Law? That shit is out the window
Just like the basepipe, where all of your ends go
Yeah, excactly what I thought
Just like Magic when he was a little short
To buy crack from my man on the block
Eyes wide open, and your mouth just dropped
Ah-ah - don t say a word
Just a lot of glance superb
MC Craig G to kick all the facts
About why your records are wack
BDP wrecked you quite a long time ago
But allow me to deliver the final blow
Dis me  and get away easy?
Yo, I m gonna hand you squeegee
Go wash windows, that should be your career
I could give a fuck about what you pioneered
Straight up, that don t mean shit
So won t you take your vine and swing the fuck off a cliff
Yeah, I mean business
Don t ever in your life try to dis this
Cause punk, I ll rip you to streads
And mail your record company your head
I know it sounds a little graphic
I heard your album s double plastic
And your single went copper
Congratulations, but I think you need a doctor
Cause after you take this whippin
There s no tellin what the fuck you be shippin
And now that you ve been smoked
Relax, punk, before I go for your throat

Yo, that was kinda funky
(Word?)
Don t you have a second verse?
(Yeah, I got a second
Let me tell you how I get him on this one here)

[ VERSE 2 ]
Authentic - that s the way I present it
Sometimes it s funky, and sometimes it s demented
Rappers runnin up to me, handin me feedback
Slow down, Shan, you just entered a speed track
With your neck snapped, don t accept that
So want you call me, give the devil his check back
And take your soul, but your title - ???
And bring your wack-ass rhymes to the _Muppet Show_
See, I don t give a fuck how much swing you got
And how high your album climbs on the charts
You re still a dead rapper from Christmas past
So won t you pucker up and kiss this ass
Cause I m in here, even ???
I make up for the others with this fly-ass beat here
And you - you ll make a drastic drop
You couldn t stop me if you were a traffic cop
Now this reminds me of my radio days
When I d take the mic and leave rappers amazed
No matter how large, whether gold or platinum
I take my microphone and point the shit right at them
And after I was finished, they d say, "Craig G scored"
And that s the way I usually would rock New York
So yo punk, if you don t like those quotes
Come on find me, and watch me go for your throat

Yo man, you definitely got him on that, yo
(He can t fuck with this in a million years, uknowmsayin?)
Yo, fake-ass Puma-wearin...dirty Puma suit...gutter-ass
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