| (The moral of that story is
 | 
| Don’t mess around and get yo ass stomped)
 | 
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah — yeeaaaah)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Booooooooo-Yaa!
 | 
| Yeah
 | 
| (Yeah)
 | 
| (Come on)
 | 
| (Posses better step back)
 | 
| (Tell em what it is)
 | 
| Don’t mess with a riot, we’re prisoners of emotion
 | 
| How politicians figure they have the potion?
 | 
| But I’m the witch doctor, I came to rock ya
 | 
| (And if it don’t work) Then I’m gonna sock ya
 | 
| Don’t need violence, but violence is here
 | 
| Listen up close and put on a riot gear
 | 
| Cause Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. | 
| is comin up hard
 | 
| (What you think about the posse?) I think we see in a graveyard
 | 
| I’m the rap criminal, comin from my limo
 | 
| Every lyric I say, I write it down on my memo
 | 
| The MC in command, my A.K. | 
| ??they banned?
 | 
| Me and you one on one, Ganxta R? | 
| dd still stand
 | 
| I never dirty my back, I never ever get jacked
 | 
| On stage (cause he carries a gat)
 | 
| .44's large, I got a big bodyguard
 | 
| The rap mafia Godfather Rock is in charge
 | 
| You don’t mess
 | 
| With that Boo-Yaa funk
 | 
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah — yeeaaaah)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Booooooooo-Yaa!
 | 
| I’m gonna tell you only once
 | 
| (Yeah)
 | 
| Yo loc
 | 
| Pass me that second clip, homeboy
 | 
| I can do this
 | 
| (Tell em what we about)
 | 
| Don’t mess with a dopedealer, makin transactions
 | 
| Cause makin money is their satisfaction
 | 
| Sellin drugs is the way they survive
 | 
| Smokin drugs is the way they die
 | 
| So who’s the main killer, the pusher or the user?
 | 
| You figure it out, I’m not here to accuse ya
 | 
| Cause I’m a dope dealer, slingin records
 | 
| Makin records, breakin records, settin records
 | 
| So now you know what time it is
 | 
| You don’t mess with the stuff, you can’t hang with this
 | 
| I’m a pusher, a killer, never to be followed
 | 
| (To all you posses) 187 with a beer bottle
 | 
| So how you figure, the R? | 
| dd behind the trigger
 | 
| Huh, you try to run, I hunt you like a ninja
 | 
| Cause I’m so quick (how quick?) like lightning
 | 
| To MC’s the R? | 
| dd is so frightening
 | 
| They keep askin me (R?dd, what you writin?)
 | 
| A letter to the posse who comin in here fightin
 | 
| So like dope dealer would say
 | 
| You shortstop, my customer get sprayed with the A. K
 | 
| You don’t mess
 | 
| Homeboy
 | 
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah — yeeaaaah)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| (Don't mess with)
 | 
| Booooooooo-Yaa!
 | 
| I’m gonna only say it once
 | 
| Come on
 | 
| (Yeah)
 | 
| You think they’re ready for the last one?
 | 
| (I don’t know)
 | 
| Bring on that clip, homeboy
 | 
| (That one was too funky)
 | 
| (Give it to em anyway)
 | 
| (Come on)
 | 
| Don’t mess with the boys in black when your ass get tapped
 | 
| By Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., the mafia of rap
 | 
| Life of last (lane) never been delayed
 | 
| Commit a crime on stage and still get paid
 | 
| Makin dollars to holler, your posse’s to follow
 | 
| The T.R.I.B.E. | 
| get bigger, your posse get smaller
 | 
| Your lyrics is scratched, your record is dubbed
 | 
| You ask what’s the funk hypin up the club
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| Then you turn to your lady as you say it again
 | 
| Boo-Yaa funkin it up
 | 
| Yeah
 | 
| Don’t mess with a bullet when the trigger is pulled
 | 
| You don’t mess with the T.R.I.B.E. | 
| when we act a fool
 | 
| The Godfahter Rock TE, once he starts snappin
 | 
| O.M.B. | 
| on the bass, he starts slappin
 | 
| R? | 
| dd start rappin, my T.R.I.B.E. | 
| start cappin
 | 
| Your posse plays it up, I say, «Yo, what happened?»
 | 
| Now they got me in a cell, but they fail
 | 
| I still got E.K.A. | 
| and Don-L raisin hell
 | 
| Put down my mic, I got L.A.'s best
 | 
| Most wanted stays R? | 
| idd, takin over the west
 | 
| Always been loc’ed since the day we was born
 | 
| We peel a cap like a monkey peels a orange
 | 
| Tear your ass up with my lyrics of death
 | 
| Put down my mic in case you run out of breath
 | 
| Roll your ass up and tell you to leave
 | 
| Like the last record company who didn’t believe
 | 
| But that’s okay, because the going gets tough
 | 
| You don’t mess with this stuff
 | 
| So how you like us now?
 | 
| How ya like us now?
 | 
| Homeboy
 | 
| They gonna funk to this
 | 
| They have to
 | 
| I’m gonna only tell you once
 | 
| You don’t mess with Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E
 | 
| (Don't mess around and get yo ass stomped) |