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作曲 : Cordew, Horne, Isley, Isley ... |
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(Raekwon) Aiyyo. Staircase to stage now, major waves |
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Tanktop Nautica, flippin' your daughter thirty ways |
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Yeah who want mine? Bent outta shape, one time |
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Play the mall, starin' at your bird of all sunshine |
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Watch my shit shift, niggas in the back, wigs lift |
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You know the stats God, don't even ask pa, back slit |
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Raw drug raps, thug hats and mob hats, spit on that cat |
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This yellow love nigga fuckin' with a rich cat |
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My shit mad, 5 feet 6, with a crisp hat plush |
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Throwin' down on thirty bricks, niggas is with that |
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Though, federados locked my man yo, hit lotto |
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Three-hundred thousand dollars in the bottle |
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Bitch math is Heiml technique, rover in the robe, gold link |
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You know the code 'Rique, suitcase money, stow heat |
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Rock Navi's though, hundred dollar bags valet |
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That nigga crabbed me, gamin himself, like Milton Bradley |
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(Fredro Starr) Yo the semi-automatic Glock this, unlock this |
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The weed spots get knocked, it's so hot chicks is topless |
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Whips are spotless, chrome rims spend obnoxious |
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You can't knock this, bust a shot you better not miss |
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(X-1) X-1 wild out, and make you watch this |
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'til your eyes turn red with blotches |
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Eatin' scraps out the garbage |
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Unload a cartridge, and bust a cap |
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X could never trust a cat, Onyx is as hot as it gets |
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Bitches fuckin' for free, is outta the quest' |
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Blow blood outta your flesh, your body outta your vest |
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(Fredro Starr) I toss the heat from across the street |
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Fly you up off your feet, you die livin' soft and sweet |
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Street crime, time is money, nigga don't waste mine |
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Expose my 9, throwin' your shine, your froze in time |
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Lookin' at death, holdin' your breath, laid out |
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On the dance floor, blood and Moet, I'm blowin' your set |
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Trick twenty G's, no sweat, your goin' in debt |
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I'm goin' for broke, I'm blowin' out smoke, you catch a stroke |
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(X-1) Wu-Tang and Baldhedz |
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Swiss foreheads, leave you all red |
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X-Milli-on, fully armed, illest beyond your realest form |
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Bringin' the storm, forseein' you warned |
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Nuttin' keepin' me calm but heat in my palm |
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Sleep and you gone, you see what I'm on? |
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Creepin' outta the dark |
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Scatter your parts from here to Battery Park |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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You can't slam, don't let me get fool on a man! |
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(Suave) Steel master, grab half the cash fast and bash |
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And splash yo' class, mash your staff, WHAT?! |
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Nigga get smacked, you ain't worth a punch, hurt your bunch |
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Get murked, you front in the wrong circle punk! |
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Mack clever niggas dat regulate |
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Catch you on the d-lo in Mecca and Etch-a-Sketch ya |
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Shake and erase, vacatin' your space, breakin' your face |
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Straighten your waist, twist you, and won't miss you |
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Official Nast and Killa Bee, full blast, get off smash |
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Pull fast for your stash |
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Long as the war last, foot up in your ass |
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Tryin' to count more math, bring in the hardcore rap |
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(Killa Sin) Yo, we be the mainstream |
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Supreme rhyme top of the line cuisine fiends |
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Number one love for thugs queens schemin' on cream |
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My whole team love, the E-cup bras and mobb cars |
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Killa Sin known for makin' niggas reach for the stars |
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The terrorist lyricist in the midst of the abyss |
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We cannabis evangelists, iron palms with metal fists |
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Wu build, like construction and bang, like percussion |
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All the Planet Battery packs combust and malfunction |
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What kid? |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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You can't slam, don't let me get fool on a man! |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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You can't slam, don't let me get fool on a man! |
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Sticky - "Holy shit!! Who the fuck is dat?" |
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Method - "It's John John" |
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Sticky - "Sticky Fingaz kid, you got my back?" |
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Method - "I got your back cousin" |
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Sticky - "I got the mack-dozen" |
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Method - "And when them niggas start jumpin' |
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Bust back cousin" |
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Sticky - "Cause it's a new year, time for some new shit |
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Nowadays rappers dyin' over music" |
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Method - "Dead on arrival, we raised in the ghetto |
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Singin songs for survival, duckin' homicidal, you rivals" |
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Sticky - "Yeah yeah, Onyx/Wu-Tang, on tracks we gangbang |
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Chitty-bang-bang" |
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Method - "Chitty-chitty-bang-bang |
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Hot Nix' spit flame, lava pump through my veins |
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Caught in the zone, home on the range" |
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Sticky - "Aiyyo you rang on ferocious, atrocious |
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We got that supercalifragalisticexpiala-" |
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Method - "- dope shit!" |
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Sticky - "Eight ball in the corner pocket" |
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Method - "We snatch wallets off the white collared |
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The Big Apple forever rotted |
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Narcotics hunt the hard target, Hot Nix'" |
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Sticky - "SO WHAT THE BUMBACLOT?!" |
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(Method Man) Pop shit, we do the knowledge |
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To shark niggas, once bitten |
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Major swingers heavy hittin' |
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Poly your kitten, throw up your mittens |
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Stop bitchin', no slippin', no pot to piss in |
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The meltin' pot's boilin' hot now in Hell's Kitchen |
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(Sticky Fingaz) Yo, yo, Sticky Fingaz |
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One of the illest motherfuckers |
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BELIEVE DAT!! My moms don't raise no suckers |
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I slap rappers, turn 'em into singers |
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Touch somethin' of mine and you'll have NINE fingaz! |
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Method - "Enough said |
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Let's paint this whole fuckin' town red" |
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Sticky - "And RIP.. they whole crew to a shred! |
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I got cold blood" |
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Method - "I pull yo' plug" |
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Sticky - "I hold, bust" |
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Method - "Show no love" |
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Sticky - "I'm so bugged" |
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Method - "Shoot yo' home up" |
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Sticky - "And shoot up the whole club" |
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Method - "We throw slugs" |
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(Sticky Fingaz) You ain't no thug! |
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I earned every God damn penny that I got |
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Son I'm rollin' shotgun in the convertible |
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I wish a nigga W-W-W-WOULD |
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Try to fuckin' jack me, I'll MURDER YOU!!! |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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First things first man, you're - with the worst |
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You can't slam, don't let me get fool on a man! |
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Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang - ONYX!! |
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Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang - ONYX!! |
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(Sticky Fingaz) Follow my footsteps |
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Used to ante up for a nickel sack, from Vange Hill to Moon |
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You touch me, I got to get you back |
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Roll in the stolen V's with he-ho chase you |
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Cop a six months time, and 3 years probation |
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Repeat offender, bender, no retreat, no surrender |
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I'm the number one contender |
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I got a new game plan, strictly sportin' name brand |
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Layin' in the pound hunted |
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Floatin' through your town blunted |
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On some shit that give you burnt throats |
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Amputated all the turn coats, and get cremated |
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Never been B-rated, my 5 plated, is how I dead fights |
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I have your family driving in the daytime wit they head lights |
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(All City) Keep Shinin', I'm daily thinkin' of a life gleamin' |
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That life we in, how to obtain, and what's the meanin' |
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(Keep on Shinin') The fact that cash rules, these last days |
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We the last crews, my present wars and my past crews |
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(Keep Shinin') True soldier, no matter the goal |
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We gettin' closer, for bitch ass niggas, it's just about over |
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I'm in it for the long haul, this goes out |
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(Keep on Shinin') To all my true livin' dogs and my 'so-called' |
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(Fredro Starr) Don't talk about it, make it happ' |
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Don't fake it chap |
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The Hennessy act, got you light gat |
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You wanna block, trying to hold a nine |
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Son you livin' on my time, don't try to Overshine |
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Play your p, play your position |
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I stay with G, stay on a mission |
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Precisely, good, wit game I'm nicely |
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Shifftee son, still shiesty |
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You in your eight fifty, ridin' shotgun |
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If you can count your money, you ain't got none |
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And bitches beat they game tight |
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Baby, get the name right, see G. comin', like a train light |
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And niggas be don pretending |
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But I'm armed and bendin' |
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So they can get the John Lennon |
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Hundred dollar gator players |
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Silk shirts and champagne |
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Don't know a thing about the damn game |
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(All City) Keep Shinin', I'm daily thinkin' of a life gleamin' |
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That life we in, how to obtain, and what's the meanin' |
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(Keep on Shinin') The fact that cash rules, these last days |
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We the last crews, my present wars and my past crews |
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(Keep Shinin') True soldier, no matter the goal |
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We gettin' closer, for bitch ass niggas, it's just about over |
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I'm in it for the long haul, this goes out |
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(Keep on Shinin') To all my true livin' dogs and my 'so-called' |
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(Sonsee) My artistic creation |
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Or decoration will set the nation |
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With infestation of lyric lacin', for all occasions |
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Engagements and events, for big dollars and cents |
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Makin' niggas past tense, it's consequence |
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All I see around me, makes up the place |
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But if you don't hold down your space |
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You quickly get erased |
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Don't waste a thought, thinkin' I ain't |
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Gon' be bringin' the goods and grands home |
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Till my body's dead and stinkin' |
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Watch as I back draft, on the last class, I trap, crash |
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Catch the hash flash, when I puff the black wrath |
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Learn the slicks of the trade, to be self made |
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Those who slept |
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Stay where they started and got played |
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(All City) Keep Shinin', I'm daily thinkin' of a life gleamin' |
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That life we in, how to obtain, and what's the meanin' |
| [09:41.809] |
(Keep on Shinin') The fact that cash rules, these last days |
| [09:44.175] |
We the last crews, my present wars and my past crews |
| [09:47.491] |
(Keep Shinin') True soldier, no matter the goal |
| [09:49.491] |
We gettin' closer, for bitch ass niggas, it's just about over |
| [09:53.208] |
I'm in it for the long haul, this goes out |
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(Keep on Shinin') To all my true livin' dogs and my 'so-called' |