Yeah, you got the Live Squad in this motherfucker 
We got my nigga Treach from Naughty by Nature in this motherfucker 
My nigga Apache up in this motherfucker 

Verse One: Tupac 

My Mossberg goes boom, gimme room, can I catch it 
Talkin quick and then I vic just tryin to keep from gettin blasted 
I had enough I put a hit upon them bastards 
Boo-yaa! Turned a snitch into a casket 
Now they after me, prowling for a niggaz bucks 
Time to see, who's the G, with the bigger nuts 
Buck buck, big up and livin reckless 
Niggaz with a death wish step in with a Tec and I'll wet this 
Yeah this shit is hyper 
Two to one I'm writing representing and I'm striking like a viper 
Huh, I got my mind made up, I got my nine 
Ring the alarm, and strong arm must run 
Some niggaz need to feel me with a passion 
I'm old fashioned, run up on me nigga and get blasted 
With five deadly venomz 

(Yeah 'Pac, fuck that, still hittin em up with 
that old deadly shit. Aiyyo Treach where you at? 
Step up and hit they ass up with the wickedness.) 

Verse Two: Treach 

We come to hit you with a sock full of Brooklyn 
to the Onyx of your nose, punk is funky like skunk blunts 
Stunk like funk cunt 
I come to take you on a war rough and rugged route 
And if another doubts I blow your fuckin mother out 
And that's the street scarred style 
I shout I'm-de-MC-wit-de-nasty-mouf, and kick the bitch out 
Sue me? I pay the lawyer for ya oh boy yeah 
Plus my style's ten to twenty fuckin pounds more 
I take you quicker than a picture of a punk ya pickin shit 
pickin pockets with a razor stoppin Russian rockets 
Not shoplift, I'm liftin shop 
Once you sound hot, cause if you ain't a perfect ten 
my sign is stop! 
It's twenty mother-crooked-fuckin styles in em 
Like women I did em I'm in for deadly ready venom 

Verse Three: Live Squad 

Yeah, as I take a puff I get rough, Big Mad 
To put it on, can't none come tougher see 
I'm down with the sound of the Squad hard, boom! 
Breakin em down, I make em see their doom 
Coming straight from the dome where I roam it's a job to 
rob and steal and runnin from the coppers 
Who hold a, boulder, turn the gun controller 
Started from a punk now to be a high roller 
Youngest, reckless, crazy, disaster 
Mac-11 blaster, and I run faster 
Than a lot of cops I can't be stopped till my head gets popped 
A lot of fuckin bodies will drop 
It's a disaster, I'm coming for the blood splatter 
I make you scatter, leavin trails of brains and bladders 
Blowin em out the frame with no shame 
Game tight, drop a body then get out of sight 
Count my loot after I shoot, leave my kicks up and it's 
something I don't wanna do, somethin that I never did 
I try to get him, I think I hit em, I lit him 
He's out! A poison, a deadly venom 

(Yeah Mad, fuck that! You know how we do. 
KnowhatI'msayin? Squad in effect, YG'z in effect. 
Now you know a nigga like me gotta represent) 

Verse Four: Live Squad 

Once again, back to rip shit, quick on the flip tip 
The psycho, represent the real to take the mic flow 
Deadly, rock a head G, check the melody 
Niggaz can't touch me when I wreckin G you better flee 
Cause I'm gifted with a jab and a forty-four Mag 
So nigga flip or take a trip in a body bag 
Uhh, boom you slipped up, now you're zipped up 
Yeah one more statistic, fronted and got ripped up 
No joke, you be yolk, no matter how it sound 
We're taking over eight niggaz back to the stomping grounds 
Line em up single file, dome runnin in em 
A nigga hit em with the venom, the fourth deadly venom 

(Nigga, yaknowhatI'msayin? Fuck that! 
I told you, we takin over, yo 'Pac.) 

Verse Five: 2Pac 

Five deadly venomz verse five be the livest 
Strugglin and strive, keep a nine in my waistline 
Take mine, you better bury me, G 
Punk ass niggaz don't even worry me, see 
I got a glock that say 'Pac run the block 
Fuck the cops cause my gauge gets me... PAID 
As I sit and reminesce about the old days 
Hugging on my AK, fuck getting played, hey 
I say niggaz need to get they mind right 
Until they do I pop a clip and grip my nine tight 
Now it's on everday could be my last day 
That's why I blast on they ass as I past let the glass spray 
First you had a mouth full of fronts 
Now you're mouth's full of chunks, Pac's out puffin blunts 
Deadly venomz 

(Hahaha, yeah pass that shit over here. 
Apache bout to clean shit up.) 

Verse Six: Apache 

Throw up your middle finger! Start the track for the maniac 
Only thing I'm givin out is black donuts and dirty backs 
Let me tell how you rough I get 
I pop shit behind your back get in your face and pop the same shit 
You can't get in because my gate's bigger I'ma snake nigga 
My act guards me so hard I pull the fuckin trigger 
I'm a section to clinch your porch is like a pinch 
Test a rhyme I'll knock your hairline back an inch 
Fuckin up pooh-butts, cut em like cold cuts 
Choke em with my boot lace, then leave em hangin like old nuts 
Clip up and move out, time to get em 
That's the results of fuckin with the fifth venom in denim 

(Yeah, yaknowhatI'msayin? 
Five motherfuckin deadly venomz, in effect for ninety-three 
ninety-four ninety-five all that other shit. 
We takin this motherfucker over this larger hit. 
YaknowhatI'msayin? Follow us, come along. YaknowhatI'msayin? 
We takin this motherfucker over. TRUST. We out.)

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