[Intro: Frukwan]
|
Check it out... check it out..
|
Yo.. yo... yo
|
|
[Chorus x2: Frukwan]
|
Little Johnny Walker Red, 2 to the head
|
Big shot, slingin' crack and rocks, found dead
|
Some say it was the cops
|
Mothers said it was our brothers on the block
|
|
[Frukwan]
|
Yo, makin' stacks of cash money, feel the drama drop
|
CREAM of the crop, I keep it hot
|
Feel the rhyme in it, dominant, fake ass talkin'
|
Muthafuckas fuck the wine, get ya mind open
|
So he wanna sail with the six pack?
|
Cork his thought, shit to muzzle, chase a trouble, pass, guzzle
|
It's lookin' bad, sellin' every fuckin' thing that he had
|
Osirus, weak ass computer virus
|
The vintage fighter, Johnny United
|
Claim to be the finest heavyweight, walkin' Empire State
|
Livin' lavish, but in exaggerate of lust
|
Funds way to the tongues, no excuse for bigger guns
|
Rendevous makin' moves, the physical endevour
|
Hypin' fright, kill and excite, my P. defender
|
Rended you in comp, like a hundred niggas when they stomp
|
Muthafuckas get stomped, what?
|
|
[Chorus x2]
|
|
[Frukwan]
|
Yo, watch when brothers get ill, I knew that
|
Pain and repurcuss', bust, bust, no discuss
|
Rush in position to blaze, stard bustin'
|
Circumstance put you in a panic, hold ya cannon
|
Fox 5, got ya hangin' from the wire
|
Where the debris trunks, pieces of lead heat up ya body
|
In six to avenge what it is, when a brother gets shell shocked
|
Figure enemies paradox
|
The tense, relentless, never end this
|
The scandal was assault and bust the vault
|
Brothers that fought, at ease
|
Crash the 'ment, just to free up butts
|
Lookin' forward and to livin' it up
|
Five/six deep, followin' Jeeps and ordernents
|
Weapon supply, fugitive spies, subordinants
|
Smoke screen, three brothers done lost their lives
|
From the team, while gettin' get caught up in the government scheme
|
|
[Chorus x2]
|
|
[Frukwan]
|
Yo, brace the armor, face the cap slugs in your back
|
We escape, through the labryinth, hope
|
Battle is skilled decision, act of precision
|
The coke was depth bein' the only one left
|
Couldn't divide the rules skated with the jewels
|
Lay low with pesos, chronic and blow
|
Add a couple stunts, and his trail got cold
|
Headed straight for the block when he drove his Rolls
|
Seen and heard, yo, word, give me the four
|
Point blank at the tank, empty clip at the dour
|
Slow your roll, the pain was too immense to run
|
Knew that his time would come, top issue
|
Branded by a government official
|
The boys in blue, Paparazzi circled the block
|
Rounded up six cats whose phones were tapped
|
Still frontin', nobody knew nothin', yo!
|
|
[Chorus x2]
|
|
-----------------
|
Big Shot Dead
|
| Gravediggaz |
