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Yo, if you make a lotta cream and don't share them stacks |
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[ Prodigy ] |
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Yeah, it ain't where you from, it's where you at |
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I know a lotta niggas that'll tear your back |
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[ Kool G Rap ] |
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It ain't where you from, kid, it's where you at |
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[ Prodigy ] |
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Listen, if you goin out of town and don't bear them gats |
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[ Kool G Rap ] |
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It ain't where you from, kid, it's where you at |
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If you caught up in a beef and you scared to clap |
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[ Prodigy ] |
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Dogs, it ain't where you from, it's where you at |
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[ VERSE 1: Kool G Rap ] |
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Shit, thug listen (What up baby?) |
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Ain't nothin 'round here but drug addiction |
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Niggas is anti-love-livin |
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The slug-givin little shortie on the snub itchin |
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For beef, he might get left in the street with his blood drippin |
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The poor niggas sling crack, real raw niggas that bang gats |
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Crazy lady jumped on the train tracks |
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Know if you owe somebody dough you better bring that |
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Them kids is live, put five where your brain at |
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You walk the streets of the slums |
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Know to spot beef when it come |
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Reach for the guns or feel the heat from the ones |
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Never know who your killer be (Yeah, speak to no one) |
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Just put a Desert Eagle beak in his lung |
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Leak em and run, some guys light the blunts up |
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(And then what?) And then go ride with the pumps up |
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Chopped up bitch inside of a dumpster |
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Paramedics tryin to speed a nigga pulse up |
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(Yo, he's a cold blue) victim of the vultures |
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Block sizzlin hot, flooded in the middle with cops |
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Innocent nigga topped, riddled with shots |
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Kids up in rock spots clock knots, fiddle with glocks |
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Ready to die for what little they got |
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Tricks, hoes and thugs (That's right) |
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The ones that put holes in mugs |
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Waitin outside for them ones that pose in clubs |
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To that strange nigga knockin on your do' with gloves |
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Let the .44 blow for grub, it's no love |
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[ CHORUS ] |
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[ VERSE 2: Prodigy ] |
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You got uniformed cops, the D's when it's hot |
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TNT knockin down the door of your spot |
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The feds come get you once you think you on top |
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They just been buildin they case, they got you on tape |
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The CIA clip you if the shit is that deep |
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Your money's that long, you ain't that strong |
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Informants'll bury you under the jail |
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They got wires and statements for juries to hear |
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Then they got rivals that got it clickin just like you |
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That's your competition, them niggas tryin to eat too |
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They'll set you up for dead if you don't show strength |
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Extort all your workers cause you ain't built for this |
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Plus stick-up kids and jealous-ass niggas |
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You gotta watch your front, sides and your back (Damn) |
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You gotta keep your eyes on your bitch and your mens |
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You gotta keep your mind sharp livin so fed |
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[ CHORUS (2X) ] |
