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Now it's time to check out the pattern |
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from here to Manhattan |
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and every motherfuckers on the side gettin' a gat |
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and shittin' bullets |
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wastin' lives. |
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Standing breaking heads of the youths |
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in their groups of fours and fives |
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and all the girls pickin' up on their gun t'ings |
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'cause the way they way they figure |
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them seem to run things. |
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But life is worth nothing, I ain't bluffing |
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when you're puffin' on a barrel |
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you don't talk tough when you start coughing |
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and nobody's bullet proof and that's the truth |
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so na bada come me wit dat big-dick gun-talk ya spoof |
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You won't be sittin' up smilin' in the Intercontinental |
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you'll be layin' out on the slab with your home up for rental |
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now you best seek parental guidance |
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'cause they shoulda raised you up better |
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you little bed wetter. |
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Now I kicks the slang in |
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this is how I'm hanging, |
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with the crew from the south |
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of the river come to make you shiver |
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and shake when Mr Morgan cuts a funky drum break |
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on the drum kit, this is how we funk it. |
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We don't need no dumb shit |
|
'cause we never come to front it. |
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Grab your logic like a ball |
|
I'll take it to the hoop and dunk it. |
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'cause life is already too cheap, you creep, |
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I best set your alarm |
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'cause it sounds like you're still asleep. |
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YOUR GUNS AIN'TA WICKED |
|
YOUR SOUNDS IS'A WICKED |
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BUT AS FOR THE LIFESTYLE OF DEATH |
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I'D NEVER PICK IT |
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YOUR GUNS AIN'TA WICKED |
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AND YOUR BULLETS AIN'TA WICKED |
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Now I'm going further and further until I reach my destiny |
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it makes no difference if the brothers keep testing me |
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see the rule of the gun ain't ruling we. |
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Many many people I can see |
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turn, become a carrier, strengthen up a barrier |
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enforced by the media - whole time feedin' ya |
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sanitised images of the gun, man. |
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But no I'll never run, man, |
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because it can't be done, understand? |
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You're tying to come dumb but slick |
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to make cash quick |
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'cause you think it's the new lick |
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it's just another trick. |
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Call it abandon, got my hand on |
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nothing but the mike |
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'cause it's the phat skills that I like. |
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Part of a cycle, vicious, |
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which is eating up communities whole |
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but you don't feel the impacts |
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because you just sold your syntax. |
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Ya bad boy man, ya rootin shootin' guns playin' |
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think of all the positive shit you could be sayin' |
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but the day in the life of a gangsta sells greener |
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making quick cash of a cool misdemeanour, man. |
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I've seen ya cursin' women, lying of your exploits, |
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so just skip the shit |
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and step straight to the point. |
