Don't You Cross The Line

[Intro: Sean Price]

Pen my mutha fuckin' rhyme, yeah, what up, what up?

Boot Camp in the house, Sean P, set it off, yo

[Verse 1: Sean Price]

Hey yo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone

Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome

Sean is a killer, Monkey Barz, Sean a gorilla

Great ape in the flesh, the Great 8 is the best

Duke, I spit bodies and take name, and take aim

At wack-ass rappers who be thinkin' that they the king

Stop with the lies 'fore I put a knot on your eye

Pop a popular guy, pa, plot your demise

It's not just a rhyme, it's a actual fact

That the God would actually clap at any rapper that's wack

Internet niggas usin' my image, you not Sean

Triple-w-dot-get the fuck on-dot com

[Verse 2: Top Dog]

I'm still G'd up, G.C.'d up

B.C.'d up, blaze the weed up

Henny in my cup, jump in my truck

Knuck if you buck and bust if I don't trust, so...

Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or the gun's in my hand, the gun goes "blam"

My shit don't jam, murk you and your fam

In a military stance, got you pissin' in your pants

[Verse 3: Rock]

Yo, I roll with a bunch of gun dumpers

You'se a fag, you roll with a bunch of butt munchers

I will ghost you, but won't nobody call no Ghostbusters

Bet if you live, next time you'll call some toast busters

I'm so gutter, since you really shook, I whoop bouncers

My reputation precedes me, they know I could and would

Out countless hood pouncers, I beat fire out of niggas like you

My right hand's a recliner, lean back off that

Track of the pack of your cabbage, fall flat

Smack of the earth, with your staff's jacked before that

Happen, I'm Boot Camp, what you expect from me?

I ain't askin' for love, you fuckers better love me

[Hook:]

So Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy

Don't you walk around like you raw

Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy

Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy

Don't you walk around like you raw

Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy

[Verse 4: Buckshot]

Buck is mass murder, I murder the masses

New or old school, I shoot up they classes

Niggas need glasses when you lookin' at I

To recognize BDI, I'm a crook 'til I die

Fuck y'all, why? I was on the low with no dough

And y'all was like, "Nah, I don't no go"

When y'all had yo flow, now my attitude is so-so

You jealous and you wanna tell po-po, for what, yo?

I don't sell no crack

I don't sell no cocaine, weed now or none of that

But, I am here for runnin' rap

I tell you one thing, fuck with that, gun in your back

Boo-ya-ka! Who ya nah?

Buckshot, I was here before Tupac died

No doubt, One Nation, I'm done wastin' time

Now my gun facin' while you wastin' lines, we rise

[Hook:]

So Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy

Don't you walk around like you raw

Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy

Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy

Don't you walk around like you raw

Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy

[Verse 5: Tek]

This little nigga went out for a night on the town

With a cone-head hoodie and a black four-pound

Ran up to the door, told 'em "open it now

'Fore I cock back the hammer and blow the shit down"

Now you see how bad niggas on my dick

Sayin' what you did to me when you ain't do shit

'Cept hide behind your man, cop a plea to my dude

Y'all niggas is sweet, easily become food

So stay in your lane, homes, before them thangs drawn

And it be you and all of your mans gone

[Verse 6: Louieville Sluggah]

Look, ain't nobody doin' a got-damn

Forever B-C-C is the fam

So sucker niggas hate if you want

Get your chest blown out, crack a nigga blazin' a skunk

I'm high as Cheech, levels you can't reach

Sippin' on that 'Nac, tighten up the strap

Fuckin' with this 'Bad Bitch' and her name ain't Trina

Just a thorough bitch, told me "Stack and keep your feet up"

I'm on mines double time, yeah, your boy gotta shine

And my life consist of more then just rhymes

Niggas hatin' on the bankroll

But nigga, front if you want, stand under the halo

[Hook:]

So Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy

Don't you walk around like you raw

Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy

Don't You Cross The Line, understand?

Or you'll get this, boy, this shit, boy

Don't you walk around like you raw

Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy

[Verse 7: Steele]

Yeah, if you cross me, that'll be costly

Lose a lung or a limb, slug puncture your artery

Go thatta-way, you're startin' to bother me

When I'm frustrated, guns blazin', no apologies

Fuck what they told you, I don't know you

I don't owe you a damn thing, fuck what you go through

I got issues of my own, pistols made of chrome

Specially used to some dudes like you back home