[Intro: Timbo King (Prodigal Sunn) {Byata}]
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Yeah, get my voice, get the clarity (Sunzini the flame)
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{Let me drop a little something hot, what?} Yeah
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(Yo turn my vocals up son) {Yeah, turn my voice up}
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Brooklyn, Bo King... yeah... {All my Russians come on}
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I gotta pull out the guitar on this one.
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[Vast Aire]
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I'm Vast Aire... I'm like Ali, better yet Joe Louis
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I will push my hands through you, I don't need bullets
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Show me the signal, let's flow
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I be outside with 30 niggaz ready to go
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We shine when we rhyme, so I'm, ready to glow
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I liked to helm shows, I'm ready to sow
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Pass me the needle, you get the cloth
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Kunta'll get the thread, and we'll all break bread
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This is the true birth of a prince
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When I die, this song will be a footprint
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I be back with the essence in an instant
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I heard about Ason, and burnt an incense
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Life's ill, don't get it pretzled
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I can't show you, but I'll leave a stencil
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I'm talking about what matters, not figures
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I'm pointing at the moon, and you looking at my finger
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[Byata]
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Come correct me, and I really give a fuck
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Who won't accept me, you see?
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I gotta do this for the underground, broke it down
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Coney Isle, BK to Uptown, yeah, they gonna know me now
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I'm up in the kitchen cooking up some hot shit
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Ask your boy Raekwon, he gonna tell you how I spit
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Yeah, Byata live it, it's a hustle every day
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I'm on the grind, try'nna see this, milion' kay-vay
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But I stay shining, catch me when I'm up in the scene
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Rocking the cell plus roots, now your delf, ya silk screens
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Yeah, gorilla style, don't make me have to wild out
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With the, surrealer, for realer, clap you, and come tell bout
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Making moves, paying dues on the evening news
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The Russian lifestyle, bitches, we let them lose
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Now give me another blast of that green
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Til I get open and I'm nasty with the sixteen
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They don't even know what's coming
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Til them got them rubbing off the rooster
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Chick from C.I., to Brighten Beach, yea, we Russian sick
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What? Yeah, we Russian sick, uh, yeah, the chick is sick
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[Timbo King]
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I'm Young Abraham, in front of the projects puffing
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If I, honor myself, then my honor is nothing
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Even a spirit of evil, in the veins of a junkie
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Pay peanuts and you get monkeys
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Honkey see, honkey do, yeah, Yacub the foul serpent
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Amongst crack dealers, street merchants, Bo King
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Yeah, flows from out of my mouth
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Up North, Down South, yeah, I'm never without
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Extra heat, on some black burner, semi assault
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Buccaneer, yeah I'm bucking near holes in your port
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Cuz, you ain't bustin' nothing, that's studio edits
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Who doing the shooting, your engineer, get all the credit
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So while you busting shots in a four hour session
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I'll be aiming at cops in the name of oppression
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Mack one to the second power, clap off end
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I can hit anything up close or far away
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Spray lead at the governor's head, cuz he don't wanna
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Break bread with the slaves that never been fed
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[Prodigal Sunn]
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One for my son's money, two for the show
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Three, I gets busy, four; I'm out the door, bro
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Five, the click get live, the Sunn don't die
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Blaze that haze in the East, that purple gush on the Westside
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Tech vests with the metal slides, from rebel Bedstuy
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I do or die, high and on the ride
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This revolution will be televised, through mics, I'm mesmerized
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Sight spies, small fries, living lies
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Destined to flame, will get you blowned out the fucking frame
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I don't bang, but I will let that evil reign
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Never catch me tucking the chain, I'm gutter grain
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That's word to mutha, main, sustained in this fucking game
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Yeah, he shines like aluminum foil, make the mic boil
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Ladies and gentleman, introducing, I'm loyal
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Blood lines royal, hood raised never spoiled
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I'm quick to bury a snake, Jake, breathe the soil
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Twist that backwood berry croyal
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Taste the green as it broil, and watch it burn like oil
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That independent who stays major, rule one, about my paper
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It all started on the block with small cash capers
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A force of nature, my moms and pops ain't no glass makers
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And if I see you on some shit; I'm a fair shaker
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| I let it out like Sharon Vegas, serving tra |
