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(Beretta 9) |
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Eh yo |
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Dead smacked, the middle of war |
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One gun, one clip, one man and fan of some shit |
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Eh yo, it's deep, mad slugs comin at me |
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Should I say, "Fuck it"? |
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Kick the bucket, get out this duck shit |
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Knowin in my mind that it's not my time |
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I live 3 sides back, coward? Nah, I got 9 |
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Should I flip the clip? Should I run for the whip? |
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Should I go for the kill? Should I make it a skit? |
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I took a breather, caught my wind |
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Bust 2 shots, spend dough, damn, lost one Timb, man, fuck it! |
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Shot once more and again, 5 left, shit's real |
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I fell out, bustin my 10 |
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Shook it off, jumped up, kid, just my luck |
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Another gum mister posted up right by the truck |
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Where the snitchin? I gave him all 5 then I grabbed his gun |
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This cat forgot about the safety (How could you look to be that dumb?) |
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Laughin, ready for blastin, hype click chess llam' man |
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One nigga left and I'm ready to ask him |
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"What did you think? What the fuck did you drink?" |
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Shot touchin him slow, than I made an escape |
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(Chorus: Beretta 9) |
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It's like, for real kid, livin the life, it's like trilogy |
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Part 1, part 2, 3, I guess it's meant to be |
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Cuz that's the way it be, forever will I be |
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Wise to the fact that it's all real |
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(Prodical) |
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I used to chill with Shaquille and Talil, ill out in Brownsville |
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Robbin everythin walkin and breathin up in Cypress Hill |
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Skillful criminals kept automatics and gadgets |
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And any tragic, day and night, they ran havoc |
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Caught up in the wombs of Brooklyn |
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It's dusty, cold blooded, the block flooded |
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Jay robbin niggas for their budget |
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Him and his son, on the run, sellin jums and guns |
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Havin fun, becomin well known for packin chrome |
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In '86, shackin up with this bitch |
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Him and his click, 1 and 6, stackin cheddar like bricks |
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But as time flew, they caught a soldier on the Avenue |
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Eternal revenues lead Jakes to Langston Hughes |
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Raped his moms lab, they got the tab and where's that crab |
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nigga Jab? Send a scab to wrath there, he ate a bloodbath |
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They found his corpse up in B-Boy Projects |
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No objects, no suspects, broken neck with a holey vest |
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Another case of homicide, unsolved |
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He should've known to never get involved with the brawl |
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He lost it all |
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(Chorus) |
