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(feat. The Lox) |
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[Jadakiss] |
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It's all for real, word, word |
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Yo, my outlet is full of powerful niggas |
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Electrify ya tie, spark up the lah |
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Keep the room dark, let me feel out my high |
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Then slap box my ghost 'til one of us cry |
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J to the MUAH, can niggas fuck around? |
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Then they better say "nah", word to Allah |
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They all dyin' down, I got iron now |
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Run upon 'em, cock it back, then tie 'em down |
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If he try to move then I gotta lie him down |
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From Y-O, aka Riot Town |
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I used to buy it, but I just supply it now |
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Y'all used to talk, but you're all quiet now |
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You know what it is that really make it scrape it |
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Have a lot of cars, and the lot still vacent |
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And you won't stop speakin' 'til I leave you on the cement |
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Leakin', all hot none eatin' |
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[Yogi] |
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Slow down son, you're kill 'em |
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Ok you can bring it to 'em |
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Everyday, just like Mary J. |
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Sippin' iced teas in the E & J |
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Partyin', 'til your bare remain |
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You're killin' 'em, ok you bring it to 'em |
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Everyday, just like Mary J. |
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Honeys at the bar sippin' Alaze |
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Cru and Lox says "You here, remain" |
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I know you brailin' me, baby |
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Yogi's in the lead, you're trailin' me, baby |
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PHd's can't compete mines is better than yours |
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So we can take it to the streets, my rum's redder than yours |
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BX where the additcs sniffin' chalk outline |
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And the clubs they shout mine, shit's about time |
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Chad and Mighty Ha he the predicate felon |
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When he make bail he eat more booty than Ellen, |
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Who you tellin'? |
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The world is mine like Esco |
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If not, at least a house and Esgro |
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Turnin' ghetto stars into Uncle Tom's |
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Yo-gi, the uptown mellow low key |
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Understandin' that my crew is strictly Shark Bar |
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Champagne toastin' while you splittin' Clark Bars |
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I'd rather be live at The Tunnel with Flex |
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Then on the corner holdin' bundles, next |
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[Styles] |
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Y-O's time to see the hunger in me |
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And I see the same thing in niggas younger than me |
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Like they live, they ain't got a slice to give |
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In the broken down home and they priceless kids |
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Why wouldn't it grab the gun, heist the crib |
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And they never learn shit until twice they bid |
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Like the world turn around funny clown money |
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Everybody laugh when they have it |
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What about the addicts, niggas that'll hustle for years |
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'Til they see the graveyard, up at thier tier |
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Playin' spades, you in the world and you playin' charades |
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If the war jumped off you wouldn't touch a gernade |
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Wanna die for the cause? Lie for the dogs? |
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Niggas wanna play but never took time to pause |
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Learned to remind and check the phat four |
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Try to plug it in they wanna slice up the chords |
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[Chadio] |
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Yo, yo if you got the doe, B, than show me |
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Cause I'm walkin' these streets and no one know me |
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It's gon' change though, with the ill strange flow |
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In the 9-8 push my a black Range Rove |
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I keeps the real, seperate from the fake |
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If I kill, yo, I'm doin so for the cake |
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Blastin' go to a distant land |
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See my gun's like church to a Christain man |
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It's the code of the streets no time to explain |
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Free that soul on up to the next plain |
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Remember the pain, two shots from the flame |
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Remember the bloodstains, the cold wet rain |
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Little light guys with little white lies |
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We takin' out cash and flippin' big white pies |
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You rather run wild with your 9 mil. slant |
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You watchin' too much Stallone and Van Damme |
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[Sheek] |
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Aiyyo Lox niggas what, what the fuck, who up in here |
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Where my crew at, wave your shit in the air |
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Now bust 'em once for the niggas who ain't with you |
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And jam all above, show a muthafucka love |
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We make cake, but to make cake you need batter |
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So if you ain't kickin' that shit the beat ain't gonna matter |
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Lox and Cru, helf a milli out of you |
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So if you want it you can get the 60 shot pronto |
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Sheek that kid that spit out like tabacco |
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Lyrically fucked yall, if it ain't chips, we ducked out |
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Won't touch out if it ain't a 7 figure route |
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Aye yo, Chad papa, where that cranberry and vodka |
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Let's get flicks, spit on the niggas like this |
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From Y-O to B-X y'all niggas straight C-X |
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But we count the benjamins and collect chee-ecks |
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My baguettes shine on my neck like Flex |
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[Mighty Ha] |
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Give 'em what they want, this what they lookin' for |
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Y-O-G, Chadio and hooks from Mighty Ha |
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Hit 'em with the data once again with buttah hits |
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Peace to Chris Lighty and my peeps Mark Pitts |
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Comin' with the buttahs, production Y-O-G |
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Grab a chickenhead, lets crack the bubbly |
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Flows by the Gods cause the styles pronto |
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Dayes a do, dayes a do |
