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scarface - guess who's back lyrics

[intro: jay-z]
talk to me man…
this ya boy young hova, yo, turn the muh’f-ckin’ noise up
we can get right into the proceedings this evening
headphones are distortin’, bring it down a lil’ bit
okay, now we workin’ with it
the boy face up in baseline (face mob!)
welcome to new york city
it’s ya boy young hov’ (chyea!)
kanye west on the track (woo!)
chi-town, what’s goin’ on now?
can i talk to y’all for a minute?
lemme talk to y’all for a minute
(just gimme a minute of ya time baby, i don’t want much)
lemme talk to these muh’f-ckas, uhh

[verse 1: jay-z]
guess who’s bizack? you still smellin’ crack in my clothes
don’t make me have to relapse on these hoes
take it back out to taxin’ them road; when i was huggin’ it
n-ggas couldn’t do nuttin’ with it, straight from the oven with it
came from the dirt, i emerged from it all
without a stain on my shirt; you can blame my old earth
for the sh-t she instilled in me, still with me, pain plus work
sh-t, she made me milk this game for all it’s worth
that’s right, these n-ggas can’t f-ck with me
i’m callin’ guts every time, drag my nuts every time, homie
we make a great combination, don’t we?
me and the face mob, every time we face-off
face it, y’all, y’all n-ggas playin’ basic-ball
i’m on the block like i’m eight feet tall
homie, i’m in the drop with the ac off
that’s why the streets embrace me dawg, i’m so cool

[chorus: kanye west]
guess who’s bizack? back on the block with them o’s
face mob, mack mittens and hov’
don’t make me relapse, back to the block with the four
’cause this street sh-t is all i know

[verse 2: scarface]
from the womb to the tomb, a hot pot, a jar and a spoon
tryin’ to make me forty thousand and move
motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons
plain clothes wanna run in my room (woooo!)
but n-gga guess who’s bizack? it’s ya boy face mob
started with an eightball, gotta get this cake dawg
give n-ggas a break, nah; you know how the game go
f-ck you think i slang for? to go against the grain? no
i’m out here in grind mode, wrapped up in the paper chase
i wanna f-ck a fine ho and candy-paint the 88
don’t got no wholesale, ’cause that ain’t how i wanna run it
here, take these five stones and bring a n-gga back a hundred
gotta set my feet dude, you do sh-t a fiend do
the fire get too hot in the kitchen, i hit the streets, fool
money is an issue and that’s on the fo’ shizzle my nizzle
ya block warm, and i come by with the fizzle
and make fo’ sho’ i get to work mines, a car at a time
we go to war and you ain’t makin’ a dime (haha!)
’cause i got sh-t to lose; a n-gga out here payin’ his dues
my baby walkin’, gotta get him some shoes
it’s a new game brewin’, lemme give ya the rules
get out of line and i’ma give ya the blues
it’s a new game goin’, lemme give ya the rules
get out of line and i’ma give ya the blues, whoa (haha!)

[verse 3: beanie sigel]
guess who’s bizack? the boy b. mizack, aka mr. crack-a-brick
turn a whole one from a half a brick, look i mastered this
you can smell it once the plastic rips
a hot plate’ll make ya swell up if ya gas get clipped
you can make ya chips swell up, you don’t have to pitch
play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch
young’n never pump fake, and you’ll get past the blitz
and keep ya whole hood on flip, like old box-spring
p-ssy mattress sh-t, low old box of things
strictly gl-ssy sh-t, i hug the block like quarter water
sh-t, i used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
til’ like deuce in the morning, with the old heads (uh!)
slangin’ loose quarters, this philly cat back at it
still f-ckin’ with ’em crack addicts, still bustin’ with that black-matic

- scarface lyrics

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