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Yeah, get my voice, get the clarity (Sunzini the flame) { |
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Let me drop a little something hot, what?} |
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Yeah (Yo turn my vocals up son) { |
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Yeah, turn my voice up} |
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Brooklyn, |
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Bo King... yeah... { |
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All my Russians come on} |
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I gotta pull out the guitar on this one. [Vast Aire] |
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I'm Vast Aire... |
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I'm like Ali, better yet |
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Joe Louis |
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I will push my hands through you, |
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I don't need bullets |
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Show me the signal, let's flow |
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I be outside with 30 niggaz ready to go |
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We shine when we rhyme, so |
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I'm, ready to glow |
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I liked to helm shows, |
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I'm ready to sow |
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Pass me the needle, you get the cloth |
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Kunta'll get the thread, and we'll all break bread |
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This is the true birth of a prince |
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When I die, this song will be a footprint |
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I be back with the essence in an instant |
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I heard about |
|
Ason, and burnt an incense |
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Life's ill, don't get it pretzled |
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I can't show you, but |
|
I'll leave a stencil |
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I'm talking about what matters, not figures |
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I'm pointing at the moon, and you looking at my finger [Byata] |
|
Come correct me, and |
|
I really give a fuck |
|
Who won't accept me, you see? |
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I gotta do this for the underground, broke it down |
|
Coney Isle, |
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BK to Uptown, yeah, they gonna know me now |
|
I'm up in the kitchen cooking up some hot shit |
|
Ask your boy |
|
Raekwon, he gonna tell you how |
|
I spit Yeah, |
|
Byata live it, it's a hustle every day |
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I'm on the grind, try'nna see this, milion' kay-vay |
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But I stay shining, catch me when |
|
I'm up in the scene |
|
Rocking the cell plus roots, now your delf, ya silk screens |
|
Yeah, gorilla style, don't make me have to wild out |
|
With the, surrealer, for realer, clap you, and come tell bout |
|
Making moves, paying dues on the evening news |
|
The Russian lifestyle, bitches, we let them lose |
|
Now give me another blast of that green |
|
Til I get open and |
|
I'm nasty with the sixteen |
|
They don't even know what's coming |
|
Til them got them rubbing off the rooster |
|
Chick from |
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C.I., to Brighten |
|
Beach, yea, we |
|
Russian sick |
|
What? Yeah, we |
|
Russian sick, uh, yeah, the chick is sick [Timbo King] |
|
I'm Young |
|
Abraham, in front of the projects puffing |
|
If I, honor myself, then my honor is nothing |
|
Even a spirit of evil, in the veins of a junkie |
|
Pay peanuts and you get monkeys |
|
Honkey see, honkey do, yeah, |
|
Yacub the foul serpent |
|
Amongst crack dealers, street merchants, |
|
Bo King Yeah, flows from out of my mouth |
|
Up North, |
|
Down South, yeah, |
|
I'm never without |
|
Extra heat, on some black burner, semi assault |
|
Buccaneer, yeah |
|
I'm bucking near holes in your port |
|
Cuz, you ain't bustin' nothing, that's studio edits |
|
Who doing the shooting, your engineer, get all the credit |
|
So while you busting shots in a four hour session |
|
I'll be aiming at cops in the name of oppression |
|
Mack one to the second power, clap off end |
|
I can hit anything up close or far away |
|
Spray lead at the governor's head, cuz he don't wanna |
|
Break bread with the slaves that never been fed [Prodigal Sunn] |
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One for my son's money, two for the show |
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Three, I gets busy, four; |
|
I'm out the door, bro |
|
Five, the click get live, the |
|
Sunn don't die |
|
Blaze that haze in the |
|
East, that purple gush on the |
|
Westside Tech vests with the metal slides, from rebel |
|
Bedstuy I do or die, high and on the ride |
|
This revolution will be televised, through mics, |
|
I'm mesmerized |
|
Sight spies, small fries, living lies |
|
Destined to flame, will get you blowned out the fucking frame |
|
I don't bang, but |
|
I will let that evil reign |
|
Never catch me tucking the chain, |
|
I'm gutter grain |
|
That's word to mutha, main, sustained in this fucking game |
|
Yeah, he shines like aluminum foil, make the mic boil |
|
Ladies and gentleman, introducing, |
|
I'm loyal |
|
Blood lines royal, hood raised never spoiled |
|
I'm quick to bury a snake, |
|
Jake, breathe the soil |
|
Twist that backwood berry croyal |
|
Taste the green as it broil, and watch it burn like oil |
|
That independent who stays major, rule one, about my paper |
|
It all started on the block with small cash capers |
|
A force of nature, my moms and pops ain't no glass makers |
|
And if I see you on some shit; |
|
I'm a fair shaker |
|
I let it out like |
|
Sharon Vegas, serving traitors |
|
Y'all niggaz now |
|
I shine across the equator |
