From: Domingo’s “Para Mi Gente – Estamos Unidos”
Written by: Tonedeff
Produced by: Domingo
©2000 QN5 Music (ASCAP)

V1
Ayo, Im playing knick-knack patty knock a beat the fuck out/
rejecting cats faster than gay kids bounced from the cub scouts/
Tossed from the front door of the clubhouse, like, “Whats up now?”/
Scour the grout off they feet and making em walk the rough route/
Im sick of niggas wearing Sean-John, always puffed out/
Hogging mics, acting retarded, just like Forrest Gump sounds/
So, if these rappers wanna bust rounds, I’ll have a field day/
I’m always in-zones when I touchdown, compton to bucktown/
Pounding the scrubs, How in the fuck your stuff counts?/
When Verbs is on witness protection, after hearing how I snuffed Nouns/
Stalk a circus and hunt clowns… If you’re smoking/
Tonedeff causes emphysema, and will ultimately turn your lungs brown/
And that’s my recommendation, I’m saving ya’ from deterioration/
By making replacements for inferior baseman/
Players that never could play at the game they were placed in/
Checking the roster for their names, just to discover that they were scraped in.

V2
Yo, I cross cultures like puzzles of words/
All y’all nickel & dime MCs are better off smuggling herb/
The minute I mutter a verb, I spark infernos/
I should be locked up for fucking kids like I was Mary Kay Latourneau/
You saying there were no… Witnesses/
Quick… if this hypocrite fibs a bit, kick his shit in and just get the whip and a hypnotist/
I’ll finish him with a little lyrical hit and then stick em and spit in his liquor with gin in it till he’s admitting it/
Y’all wack rappers are just effiminate/
If eating dick’s la vida loca, y’all niggas is living it/
So, Come ON!!, no need to do the arithmatic/
This kid is just sick, so, Heads up, peep my single Ridiculous/
I inconspicuously wow brothers, without studders, Leave sounds smothered/
You couldn’t come to grips with cow udders/
Like proud mothers, I brag with the best of em/
Ask your man what score he got after Mr. Deff tested em.

V3
If you’re the champ, hand over the fucking title now/
More rules than a cider house, pay me the proper respect… just close your eyes and bow/
Its show and tell ya better hide your style/
Im trying to separate the wack from the weak and I cant seem to divide the pile/
Stop grinning or I’ma strike ya smile/
Like lawyers strapped with time bombs, you’ll never survive the trial/
Cause I’ll defile ya name, card your ass and swipe ya file/
Bitch, Im the river of venomous flows that spiked the nile/
Despite denial, some rappers are never happy/
Yelling and shit with no email addresse talking bout get @ me/
Dog, I’m serious, with handhelds Im shouting out, like Nextel/
Don’t need a copy of Microsoft Office to EXCEL/
WORD. Im making these power points like Bill Gates/
Cause yo, if tone is recorded on chrome, its instantly the Ill Tape/
You know Domingo makes the real breaks/
Your mother said “Guanabana”, when I asked her how the dillz tastes.