|
[DJ Clue]
|
Yeah DJ Clue Desert Storm all up in ya area
|
with the LB Fam Love Peace and Nappiness
|
A little sample but first..
|
My man Canibus gon' rip shit down ha ha
|
[Canibus]
|
Yo yo YO
|
Lost Boyz the Beasts from the East up in this piece
|
with a new release on the streets every fifty two weeks
|
and I dare a nigga to challenge us; I turn the
|
Love Peace and Nappiness into your blood on a napkin in the ambulance
|
Fuckin with the nigga called Canibus, just the sound
|
of my voice'll give you a positive urine analysis
|
I'm a lyrical demon, stronger than crack fiends
|
that smoke two P's with a C in between em
|
LB Fam, makin the music niggaz dance to
|
And we sip a very substantial amount of Jack Daniels
|
L-O-est, B-O-Y-Z we lock shit
|
We invested all of Legal Drug Money profit
|
Showin love to each and every nigga that copped it
|
In they Jeep, Lex Coupe, Beema or Benz knockin it
|
Music Makin You High, givin you that urge
|
to spend two-thirds of the money you earned on herb
|
You're fuckin with the LB Fam, we do what we gotta do
|
You never get the chance to shoot back at who shot at you
|
Nigga, you'll be dead before you reach the hospital
|
Lookin at you layin there with blood comin out your nostrils
|
Queens most wanted, quick to clap a nigga
|
Rap at killers who wear Carharts and Caterpillers
|
Totin the four-pound, holdin the fort down
|
before Heavy D bounced to Uptown became a ghost town
|
Cheeks, Lou and Thai see eye to eye
|
Spig sees eye to thigh, bein the shortest
|
but he still gets busy on the one and two's regardless
|
Heard about the Clue tape, so I had to get on it
|
Lost Boyz and Desert Storm, Show Us the Money
|
cause we STILL hungry, we STILL got the growl in the tummy
|
We STILL grimy and grungy, dressin bummy
|
Doin shows for foreign currencies in other countries
|
Tryin to finance me a Hum-Vee with low mufflage
|
Get a production deal, start our own record companies
|
Sign our own acts, and rhyme about whatever we wanna rap
|
Decorate our walls with plaques
|
Summertime eighty-nine or better degree weather
|
Nine-seven DJ Clue and LB Fam forever
|
[DJ Clue]
|
WHAT?! DJ Clue, all up in ya area
|
[Canibus]
|
Yo yo yo hold up I don't think niggaz know man
|
I'm gonna rock some more, check it out, yo, yo
|
Now just by watchin you, I can tell that I got you
|
to face me, somethin you don't wanna do, my rhymes
|
are too hostile, they'll beat you down in public like the cops do
|
Sit on top of you, make a human pinata out of you
|
Flow as potent as possible, creatin obstacles Three Feet
|
High and Rising, like the chronicles of Posdonus
|
The old school hip-hop, is where I get my style from
|
Uptown Harlem, is where I get my lye from
|
My cousin with mad guns, is where I get the nines from
|
Area 51 is where I be gettin rhymes from
|
I'm not a human being
|
I'm the human being ill with a I.Q. that's off the scale
|
If words could kill, a verse of mine'll murder a mil'
|
And MC'sll be gnashin they teeth, burnin in hell
|
I'm learnin to be the head instead of the tail
|
I ain't followin nobody else to increase my sales
|
Metaphors are real, like they been forged in steel
|
Stood before the judge told him I was forced to kill
|
And how I went for mines to get Paid in Full
|
Then I went for minds again and ripped em out of niggaz skulls
|
The nigga on the block with the biggest balls, layin niggaz
|
on the floor, robbin em too a Biggie Smalls song
|
"Turn your head round," give me the cheddar
|
I'd rather be a lion for a day than a lamb who lives forever
|
"Turn your head round," give me the cheddar
|
I'd rather be a lion for a day than a lamb who lives forever *echoes*
|
|
|
-----------------
|
shout out to lost boyz
|
| canibus |