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[Buddha Monk:] |
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Guess who's back at his best, armed for the war* |
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Bring ya best, it's new world order, Buddha Monk |
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Glock in my hand, locked on every man |
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The Brooklyn street pharmacist, taking anybody's and I don't give a damn |
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I sold to ya man, bagged up the dope, then cut 'em by the throat |
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Then send 'em up the river where Malik got smoked |
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More blood in the water than a fish in a pond |
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My bitch bleeding when she getting it on |
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It's BK, AK-9, semi auto's and grenades |
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Knives, razors and switch blades |
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And, fades, dreads and braids |
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Smoked in the park, in front of the dark, you play |
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Bullets with no intent, hitting innocent kids |
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At the stand with lemonade, Duc-Lo when the World Trade became a fade |
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Got rid of pounds of hydro and purple haze |
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Just to get by for the day, man, it's no lie |
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When I tell you I seen more heads fly |
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Than Prince's mother screaming when doves cry |
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People praising King Selassie Ah Judah Allah Buddha |
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Crosses, hail maries |
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Candles with seven African powers, witch craft |
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And all that shit, shit, nigga |
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My dick in the dirt, I got no time for that shit |
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Stay guard, move forward, extra clips and no drip |
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This world is mines, I take what I need |
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No need for asking, I blaze for what's mines |
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Keep it real muthafuckas and hold the nine, who want it? |
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[Chorus x2: Fat Joe sample] |
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Y'all wanna live my lifestyle |
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Never seen a brick never seen a crack house |
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Wanna war with the Don have your macs out |
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Bring it on and I'm a show you gangsta |
