D.I.T.C., Milano, Big Pun - Where Ya At lyrics

A'yo it's finally done
The two nicest niggas unite as one
Collide the sun with the moon, BOOM
I leave you brighted from my full of clips
Hawk the world into hell when a bullet spit
Crucifix myself to the sun, now who you with?
Enter my world of doom
Consume fear and feel the panic
I ram a lightning bolt between the earth
And the moon and curl the planets
I'm pan-Atlantic with lyrics
Spannin for galaxies
Battle me, mathematically
I'm givin your wisdom a cavity
Rapidly flowin, controllin' the time
Flip over the line
I'm blowin your mind wit just
A flow and a rhyme
I'm Hogan in his prime, strong and fast
You can bomb and blast, c'mon
You'll still be on your ass
It's satisfaction guaranteed
With Fiction like Quentin Tarantin'
Kickin your baddest dreams
Shit you haven't seen
I have to be perfectly honest
We should have an anniversary to acknowledge
The way I work the ebonics
I verbally vomit on novice niggas that try
To kid us with garbage lyrics
My style delivers outside the Outer Limit's
I'm like the pyramids cuz
Every point is precise
Now you know me for life, Six Pun
Cuban flooded wit ice

If I ain't home wit my fam (Where you at?)
Stash crib, cuttin grams (Where you at?)
Hung wit my niggas and
We're rollin and controllin, hold that!
If I ain't deep in some ass (Where you at?)
I'm in the jeep wit the stash (Where you at?)
Hung wit my niggas and
We're rollin and controllin, baby!

Yo I camel-clutch mics, a truce gahzuntite
Guess I'm allergic when shit ain't done right
You spread disease while the vaccine
Is what I write
Couldn't avoid this, sit tight
All aboard ship, on my voy-age
Purple Explorers, seven warriors my aura
You tied a? and boredom
Milan bring more than offer
High exalted, boned a Lazarus scultptor
You penny-weight style
While my piece alone around three pounds
I had to serve nerds, and throw it down
Stuck for a reason
Laid up a whole season, pen and pad style
Honeymooners like Jack Gleason
Blessin the whole reason
Until my niggas max out, hold the axe out
Whoever front, saw the procedure
All you thugs now wit misdemeanors
I seen ya'll in clubs, poppin Zima
Fake minks wit ninety percent of it beaver
Thought you was killin em?
I played the back wit two dime Brazilians
Cogniac and ice buckets
Puttin a slight chill to them
Rock platinum like I sold a million
Trapped on my island like Gilligan
Really, Manhattan niggas here
You gotta feel em
It ain't hard, sent to Parkwest Hall
Straight up the Malcom Boulevard
Wit no bars, I write scriptures
Me on beats is a fatal attraction
When I give you the business
Caught a throat virus for spittin sick shit
Got niggas wilding like "Who is this?"
On this '99 classical edition

If I ain't home wit my fam (Where you at?)
Stash crib, cuttin grams (Where you at?)
Hung wit my niggas and
We're rollin and controllin, hold that!
If I ain't deep in some ass (Where you at?)
I'm in the jeep wit the stash (Where you at?)
Hung wit my niggas and
We're rollin and controllin, baby!