We use cookies to customize content and advertising, to provide social media features, and to analyze traffic to our site. We also share information about your use of our site with our trusted social media, advertising and analytics partners. Read more.

    Scarface / Lyrics

    Playlist 0 Rate 0 Like & Share Print Email Play

    "Guess Who's Back" Lyrics

    Scarface feat. Beanie Sigel and Jay-Z

    [Jay-Z talking]
    Talk to me man...
    This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the muh'fuckin noise up
    We'll get right into the proceedings this evening
    Headphones are distortin, bring it down a lil' bit
    Okay - now we workin wit it
    The boy Face on the bassline, Face - Mob!
    Welcome to New York City... it's ya boy Young Hov' chea
    Kanye West on the track (whoo!) 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 (whoo!)
    Lemme talk to these muh'fuckas, uhh

    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 roads
    When I was huggin it, niggaz couldn't do nuttin wit it
    Straight from the oven wit 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 everytime, drag my nuts everytime
    Homey, we make a great combination don't we?
    Me and the Face Mob, everytime 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'
    Cuz 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 (whooooo...)
    But nigga guess who's bizack? It's ya boy Face Mob
    Started with an eightball, 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 (no)
    I'm out here to grind mo', rapped up in the paper chase
    I wanna fuck a fine hoe and candy paint the 88
    Don't got no wholesale, cuz 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 fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part of the time
    We go to war and you ain't makin a dime (ha ha!)
    Cuz 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 ya the rules
    Get outta line and I'ma give ya the blues
    It's a new game doin, lemme give ya the rules
    Get outta line and I'ma give ya the blues, whoa!

    [Beanie Sigel]
    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'll make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked
    You can make ya chips swell up, ya don't hafta 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
    Pissy mattress shit, low old box of things
    Strictly glassy shit - I hug the block like quarter waters
    Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
    Till like deuce in the mornin, with the old heads
    Slangin loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted (had it)
    Still fuckin with them crack addicts
    Still bustin with that black-matic


    [whistling till fade]
    This song was submitted on July 27th, 2009 and last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Ricky M. L. Walters, Sylvester Allen, Harold Ray I. Brown, Morris Dewayne Dickerson, Le Roy L. Jordan, Charles Miller, Lee Oskar, Howard E. Scott, Richard L. Serrell, Kevin Washington.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

    Song Details

    Genre:Hip-Hop, Rap
    Rank: (−)
    −/5 from 0 users
    Charts: view all »
    Referring urls:view all »


    Songs you may also like

    • same album
    • same artist
    • popular on LSI
    • new on LSI


    leaderboard activity


    Facebook (0) LetsSingIt (0)