There's a rumor that an old lady heard a
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Kingpin hiring a hitman to murder
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A federal prosecuting drug-dealing witness
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But that's how it is in the business
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And I'm in it, physically gaining power
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Constantly counting up cash by the hour
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And it feels good to be paid
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Regardless of how many victims get slayed
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Accomplices of mine drop like flies
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But in this everyday a homeboy dies
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Whether shot in the body or cyanide in ya Bacardi
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'Cause it's a cutthroat party
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Now it's up to me to retaliate
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And if I score, I'll increase the murder rate
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I move on ones who double-cross
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Set them up, now they suffer the loss
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Of he or she who's ever on the agenda
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Most likely a family member
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Informants, rattle-tattle-telling snakes
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Get shot up, brutalized and thrown in lakes
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The parts of a body is found days later
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The other half was done by an amputator
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I'm undefeated in plenty fights
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My enemies are beaten with many stripes
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I'll shoot up funerals, firebomb wakes
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Vehicular homicides, whatever it takes
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Just to keep control of my empire
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I'll set ya own mother on fire
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'Cause when it comes down just to me and my money
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Ain't a fucking thing funny
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All those who pose a threat I'll stick them
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Ya friends, ya family and innocent victims
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Get caught in the midst when I'm busting of nines
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But they was in the wrong place, the wrong time
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Decapitated bodies found in lots
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While I'm still cooking up kilos in pots
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The kilos becomes bricks and the bricks becomes rocks
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Then retailed on the blocks
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I drive around in expensive cars
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And get women who fuck like porno stars
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I get them high, you know, like powder they nose
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Then put 'em in the streets as my high-class hoes
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I'm wild, living foul and I'm ruthless
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I leave muthafuckers toothless
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I had a worker who stepped on the scene lively
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Then started selling my customers Ivory
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Soap, counterfeit vials of cracks
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I stuck 'em to death with a thousand thumbtacks
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You've seen my resume, that's just the half
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I'm a bad muthafucker, just like Shaft
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A character played by who? Richard Roundtree
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The only difference, my guns are sound-free
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Silencers ring off then wisp by
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Then all you hear is a last minute cry
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Of those who triedto control my territory
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Not the West Side but the Bed-Stuy story
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Police be giving me eye-to-eye contact
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But I smile 'cause I'm putting out contracts
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Now a G-note is placed upon ya head
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You say picture that alright, bang ya dead
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This is the life of a drug dealer
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Life of a Drug Dealer
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| Genius/GZA |
