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Yo! Let's do this! 
Uh! 
Uh-oh, uh-oh! 
Ha! 
Uh-oh, uh-oh! 
Ha! 
Uh-oh, uh-oh! 
Uh-oh, uh-oh! 
Regime nigga! 
Throw up yo hands if you Thugged Out 
the Regime up in this bitch! 

Throw up yo hands if you Thugged Out 
first nigga act up, first nigga gettin drugged out. 
Throw up yo hands if you Thugged Out 
first nigga act up, first nigga gettin drugged out. 

Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)* 

I do this for the 
real killas, and drug dealers 
affiliated wit Mobb niggas, and blood spillas 
put a slug through you tough niggas 
1-800-Thugs-R-Us 
no Dragon tattoo on you, nigga 
no love from us 
in thugs we trust 
niggas get rushed like hot whitend snuff 
up yo nose 
I fuck up yo flows 
leave my competition ass froze 
we tag on they toes 
I'm as cold as Pocinos 
enemies get tied to a pole, blind fold then I unload. 

Verse 2 *(Tech N9ne of the Regime)* 

Thugged Out 
My choppers oblivion 
speakin the opposite of Carribean in Tropolis 
poppin my z-z in 
true clocker from welfare recipiants 
type of a crispy 
an anamalisitc Tupac-er 
my race Caristian 
Jedi rhyme 
the way I spits ahead of my time 
give me a Billboard, an you bet I climb 
you mutha fuckas 
I love rukus 
thug, makin you hug crutches 
stayin away from you nothin but bum bustas 
the empire is back an we bugged out 
Phats, Keke, Maxx, Poppa L.Q., Gonzoe an my nigga Yukmouth 
these bitches beggin me to come to Menage 
A Trios 
but Muslims hear us say, "hum to Allah" 
they fly, that's on the crew nigga 
you cannot block the Regime from makin knots, no matter what you do 
nigga 
ya black an blue nigga 
undercovers like Malik Yoba 
lyrically Nina's usin a force like Yoda! 

Verse 3 *(Madd Maxx of the Regime)* 

Nigga this Madd Maxx 
you cross the Regime, you get yo life took 
we get it fuck the good book 
true thug niggas that turned to real crooks 
robbin the microphone, you get yo brain shook 
I told ya we takin over soldier 
a sober niggas rollin Rover's 
me, Ke, Gonz, Yuk, Tech 9, an Phats on ya 
all ready wit the caulked gage, buggin out Oklahoma 
fuck a Corona 
we drinkin 8-Balls until we fall out 
if you got a problem wit the Regime, your souls called out 
we all out for war 
these niggas don't want no more 
I'm takin over like Michael Jordan 
an I'm the first to score 
so fuck you fake ass niggas who be plannin a plot 
I take yo block over 
wit the nitroglycerian rock 
they got us fucked up. 

Verse 4 *(Phats Bossalini of the Regime)* 

They got us fucked up 
I've been tough 
since a young buck 
nothin to prove 
lots of pain plus some war cuts 
it ain't shit, but a thang to me 
dangerously 
I play the man you claim to be 
niggas strike back 
gun fight, we had to hype back 
this is the Phats see dream like a Fat Kat 
they wanna funk, we get dressed in black 
caulk the strap 
screamin Regime til they bust back 
it's Mobb-symboly, I die you remember me 
tatted wit Dragons in a custom coffin Bently 
simply 
I'm down to blast so don't tempt me 
I'm hella drunk, an hella blown off the geniti 
fuck wit me 
see these killas in mine 
buildin this shrine 
to feed these fuckin children of mine 
uh 
look in my eyes 
as I bleed the Regime nigga 
(Regime nigga, Regime nigga) 
havin a pile of money machine. 

Verse 5 *(Poppa L.Q. of the Regime)* 

No I've never been to the pen 
but I did a county bid 
an I ain't dumb enough to speak on the dirt I've did 
guess somebody caught the killer before the police did 
find him in the car leakin from dope over split wigs 
deadly lyrics to spit 
makin sure the killas feelin my shit 
explicit lyrics an adult content 
shot callas representin at all the major events 
and gang bangin got the streets juss way too tense 
I learned to deal wit it 
I'm in the Fields, windows tinted on my wheel wit the steel in it 
we keep puffin an rollin real wit it 
that jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits 
of a long time grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor 
and rented suits from my tailors 
some young playas, strivin for greater 
you know it's all bad 
let's make it all good 
pushin the Cavvy to touch the Navvi wit the leather an wood 
it's Regime nigga! 

Verse 6 *(Yukmouth)* 

The hardest nigga from the "O" 
my flow is certified theme music for organized crime 
niggas that burglurised banks, and murdered guys for they pies 
reach for the sky 
techniques like Robert DeNiro in "Heat" 
Karl Kani's 
no disguise, in the middle of the street 
buckin at police 
fuck police 
got a Range Rove jeep 
wit 12 open faced gold teeth 
a Rolex piece 
Cuban Links, crops, an bracelets 
but that ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, duct taped wit they bitch 
in the basement 
Where the safe is? 
Big faces 
cops raided, but ended up gettin they fuckin squad car grenaded 
You want blazed shit? 
I spit the nitroglycerian 
that's smoother than a pair of new cinnamon Timberlands 
get Benjamin's 
but be no P Diddy 
I'm from a city called Weed City 
see these Regime niggas be wit me 
fuck Christy juss Remmy 
true thugs do drugs an come up wit hits 
like Jimmi Hendricks 
shock the world like Snoop at No Limit 
Yuk signed to Rap-A-Lot, yeah nigga 
I ain't a playa, I juss mack-a-lot 
pack the gat 
tryin to snatch yo watch in the back of the lot 
keep my shit for underground fragment rock 
jackpot J struck it rich hit the Lottery 
the top comidity 
blood on wallet be from robbin sprees 
rock Phat Farm, wit tats all over my arm 
bullet wounds like a nigga fresh back from Nam 
yo nigga get yo mash on. (echos out) 

*(talking)* 

[How old were you, Mr. Washington when you hit the streets permanatly?] 

Maybe 10. 

[How did you live?] 

I became a runner. 

[A drug runner.] 

That's right. 

[Could you give us a description of how you lived, the next few 
years.] 

I kinda moved up. I lived where the money goes. Then I got busted, 2 and 
1/2 in ?? 

[And when you got out.] 

I got a piece of turf to myself. Took it. One block at a time. Nobody 
stopped me.

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