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"I think of sometime" - sample repeated throughout the song |
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(Intro: Streetlife) |
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I see him... Killa... blast on 'em, never |
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Yo.. |
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(Streetlife) |
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I got the drop on you, don't flinch |
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Pop niggaz like John Lynch |
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Leave niggaz in they own stench |
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I'mma light drinker, heavy smoker |
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Known for duckin' show promoters |
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Pass the money, over, my whole crew is ex-cons |
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Be alarmed, when you hear the *err-urrrrr* |
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It's on, Silverback niggaz under the stairs |
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When we link up, we travel in pairs |
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Ya'll niggaz best to beware of the most thoroughest |
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Cover all aspects, four corners |
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You can't creep up on us |
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I'm takin' one for the team, deal me in |
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And when the smoke clears, do it again |
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This ain't a side show, you can die slow |
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There's no I in team, we all ride... yo! |
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The Masta brought the ceremony, this is my testament |
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Homicide Housing, that's what I represent |
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(Prodigal Sunn) |
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Criminal gun play, chemical dream to P.J.'s |
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Last raid, another fed paid, bed rum: Sunday |
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The world dyin' for the love of money |
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Expensive chains, intensive pain from that cocaine |
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Condition the brain, children in strain, as I look back |
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Memory lane, civil and plain, it be in fame |
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A major part of the game, chemistry grain |
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Foolish kids ran when I came |
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Forty acres, five percent of terrain |
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Spark right through my vein tunnel, aim through this jungle of rain |
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A lot of haters wanna see us hang |
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But watch me bang as in Eagle/Crane |
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Step back, shatter your frame |
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Another victim in the system where he barely sustained |
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Forkin' in, I sold a million way, his first campaign |
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Sippin' rosemary cherry champagne, nigga |
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The young and the dangerous, water on the wrist, ice cryst' |
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Talk with a lisp, then I be top of your list |
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(Chorus: Streetlife) |
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We all in this together, forever and ever |
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Down for whatever, whenever, yeah, yeah |
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We all in this together, forever and ever |
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Down for whatever, whenever |
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(Masta Killa) |
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Check the Words from the Genius, that was written in pen |
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Murder gloves, hide the fingerprint, but never the sin |
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Ghetto prophet that's born to quote |
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Got the crimies, behind me, with the face on stroke |
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Don't provoke, trust son, that thing bust, and we roll dangerous |
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Who can handle us, when we rush the clubs on thrust |
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Yo, don't miss the lead vocalist, terrorist |
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Wu-Tang, a pure danger, the God hold a fort |
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Teach law, universal, beatdown, my stomping ground |
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We hold courts in the streets of New York |
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Snort the gun powder, eyes stay red like fire |
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Cut the mic wire, hit a love ballad note |
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Pen stroke, beautiful quote, for you to deep throat |
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Ghetto life had to rough up in the housing |
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They only make 'em us, every twenty five thousand |
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(Chorus) |
