The Professionals – CDP Smackdown lyrics

[Intro]
Nigga It takes one, to make a million run, believe it (fuck you think you talkin to?)
Mothafucka
Shut the fuck up
This is it right here
I’m official
I’m cuttin on you (cuttin on you, cutting on you)
I don’t give a fuck (fuck that shit)
Get the fuck outta here
Frontin, get half the bones in ya body broken
Call security

[Verse 1: Oh No]
Ayo, I walked in, smacked him cross the face
Knocked him off his place
Threw the first chair, like in Office Space
Off the pace, the leg
Took off his lace mask saw his traits
The crowd screamed loud from the bloody trace
Lunged him to the ropes
Wild held his arms I put my fist up to the sky
And then I punched him in the throat
Ayo, Wild, let him go
*Naw, let me get 'I'm, Oh*
A'ight, bet. Let this fool know 'bout what we do, bro

[Verse 2]
Ay, you just a copy now
We ligers, ready to eat you like Sigfried and Roy
Ready to be destroyed, like Floyd
Did to Pacquiao, I'm knocking you out
No refs here to save you
While you floppin on a sloppy foul
You know how the Ox get down
My trainer Madlib yellin, don't let him throw out the towel
So Oh No assembled up a crew
To turn these cats into a falafel now
But I'll stop for now
So instead, my nigga Med can leave a tread on ya head
While I celebrate with some Ciroc for now

[Verse 3]
Sound of the ding, scorpion sting
Four-finger ring, can't duck when I swing
I break beef cheek bones and a spleen
Your girl on her knees, please, some bobbin a weave
Easily, I corner your team, bone crushin
No punching, one take with a sixteen
Maybe this is too much
Half a verse, still ate 'em up
Flow golden gloves when I lace 'em up

[Verse 4]
Like Brock told Cormier
Yeah, I'm comin for you muthafucka
Heavyweight division is weird [?]
Gracie, wavy, [?] truly
Who he be? Roman/greco, the next flow
Roc, Ox native, I'm Errol Spence, Shakeef Thurman
I'm swarmin the body, release your soul to the paparazzi
Can't save 'em, mama never shoulda had 'em
Couldn't raise 'em, known as a guinea bastard

[Verse 5]
Tag me in, let the goon get off
Figure 4 locked on, we own the octagon
Broken arms by arm bars moves the ground
Tactics, cerebral creepin [?]
I'm a mad man, slip in ya mouth and have a yam
Hijacked the titles, you'll never get a shot again
Prepare for war's my pedigree
High power for battle, cdp's auxiliary

[Verse 6: Oh No]
Yo, let me back in, I tapped it, jumped it
Like it's from the buckle, did the buck up
Hit em with a buckle, add a buckle up
Wasn't ready for the ride, ruffled up
They feathers, was it rough enough?
Break off the ruffles and we'll rough 'em up
I threw a Jon Jones elbow over the rail, slow
Using the hands and what hell holds
The trust goes the fire from the pyrotechnics
No counts needed from the refs when
I pulled the plug, they now disconnected

[Outro]
The fuck is on yo mind?

Fall back

I told you this shit is mine!

Prosperity!
Right on! And what's the key to prosperity? (Money!)
Money! That's right. And that's why we're here