Lyrical Breakdown of Guess Who's Back - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Talk to me man

This your boy Young Hova, you turn the motherfuckin' noise up

We 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 yo' boy Young Hov', yeah

Kanye West on the track, 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 your time baby, I don't want much

Lemme talk to these motherfuckers

Guess who's bizack? You still smellin' crack in my clothes

Don't make me have to relapse on these hoes

Take it back down to taxin' them roads

When I was huggin' it, niggaz couldn't do nothin' 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 shit she instilled in me

Still with me

Pain plus work, shit she made me milk this game for all it's worth

That's right, these niggaz can't fuck with me

I'm callin' guts every time, drag my nuts every time

Homey, we make a great combination, don't we?

Me and the Face Mob, every time we face off

Face it y'all, y'all niggaz playin' basic ball

I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall

Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on

That's why the streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool

Guess who's bizack?

Back on the block with the old Face Mob

Mack Mittens and Hov'

Don't make me relapse

Back to the block with the fo'

'Cause this street shit is all I know

From the womb to the tomb, a hot pot of joy and a spoon

Tryna make me forty thousand and move

Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons

Plain clothes wanna run in my room

But nigga guess who's bizack? It's your boy Face Mob

Started with an eight ball, gotta get this cake dawg

Give niggaz a break, nah, you know how the game go

Fuck you think I slang fo', to go against the grain? (Nope)

I'm out here to grind mo', wrapped up in the paper chase

I wanna fuck a fine hoe 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 nigga back a hundred

Gotta see my feet dude, you do shit 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 fa' shizzle my nizzle

Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle

And make for sho' I get to work mines, for part of the time

We go to war and you ain't makin' a dime

'Cause I got shit to lose, a nigga out here payin' his dues

My baby walkin', gotta get him some shoes

It's a new game doin', lemme give you the rules

Get outta line and I'ma give you the blues

It's a new game doin', lemme give you the rules

Get outta line and I'ma give you the blues

Guess who's bizack?

The boy B Mizack, A.K.A, 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 will make you swell up if your gasket clicked

You can make your chips swell up, you don't hafta pitch

Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch

Youngun never pump fake and you'll get past the blitz

And keep your whole hood on flip like on box-spring

Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of things

Strictly glassy shit, I hug the block like a quart of water

Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter

'Til like deuce in the mornin', with the old heads

Slingin' loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted

Still fuckin' with them crack addicts

Still bustin' with that black-matic

Guess who's bizack?

Back on the block with the old Face Mob

Mack Mittens and Hov'

Don't make me relapse

Back to the block with the fo'

'Cause this street shit is all I know