| (feat. Mystic) | |
| [Kam] | |
| Check | |
| I represent the left, with a death toll high | |
| But I ride with the side called the F.O.I. | |
| Where do or die is the code, banged out is the mode | |
| Now everyone throw up your guns and unload | |
| I'm bound to have your whole town sewed, | |
| Niggaz drinkin and gettin blowed | |
| To the sound layin tracks down like the underground railroad | |
| Can't no jail hold me, or no crackers control me | |
| I shed tears for dead homies (and what) and fears Allah only | |
| So haters don't want me to hit, tryin to pitch ball four | |
| Makin peace with the beast but with me, bitch it's all war | |
| I'm hardcore, hardline, hard edge on hard times | |
| Here rap the records determined to get our shine | |
| Turnin water to wine, healin the deaf dumb and blind | |
| With a stone backbone, I join your own to your own kind | |
| So pass the clip as I mash the whip, with the master grip | |
| Just waitin for your ass to slip and I bang bang | |
| [Chorus: Mystic] | |
| Bang bang.. bang, bang, bang | |
| Bang bang bi-dang, bang bang | |
| Bang, bang, bang | |
| Bang bang bi-dang, bang bang | |
| Bang, bang, bang | |
| Bang bang bi-dang, bang bang | |
| Bang, bang, bang | |
| Bang bang bi-dang, bang.. | |
| [Kam] | |
| Chitty chitty bang bang, a gritty city gang thang | |
| We maintain, rap jack and slang 'caine | |
| And brang pain, think you can hang you best be sure | |
| Cause the West is where I'm from so come test me now | |
| [Mystic] | |
| Way-oyyyyyy, way-oy-oy-oy-oy | |
| Way-oyyyyyy, way-oy-oy-oy-oy | |
| [Kam] | |
| Ring the alarm, code red, Arm Leg Leg Arm Head | |
| Soldiers on the move, show and prove, go out and get the dead | |
| And spit the lead, let's quit this black and brown bloodshed | |
| And get this bread, lay these crackers down in a mudbed | |
| Like Spud Webb I go to war with the giants | |
| Cause they just pawns in the game but I'm a lord of the science | |
| I gets nuff respect, while other niggaz is suspect | |
| Ass-kickin cash get them pretty boys slash ruffnecks | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Kam] | |
| So cocks the hammer back and rack the pump | |
| Since the police hate me unlock the safety just in case we have to dump | |
| I'm ready for shit to jump, my niggaz carryin mags | |
| Like "**** these United Snakes and they American fags" | |
| Uncle Tom's askin Uncle Sam, "Why can't we bond?" | |
| But nigga Kam don't give a damn about no Yankee mon | |
| Stars and stripes I earn 'em, blow a whole through they sternum | |
| See my arrangement with the Lord is I return 'em, he burn 'em | |
| But I don't claim to be no saint, solely because I ain't holy | |
| But you just got be-lieeeve, foley | |
| Everybody on the block knows, just how it go | |
| I got flows, rock shows, clock dough and knock hoes | |
| Down like a pimp on the track, just mackin | |
| Out for my dollars pop your collars holla back - what's crackin? | |
| Shit it's your world I'm just a squirrel tryin to find a nut | |
| Catch me at the club, in the cut, watchin the girls, wind it up | |
| [Chorus] |
Similar Songs
YouTube Results (More on YouTube)