|
[Fredro Starr]
|
|
Yo! Turn that shit up, word up!
|
Afficial Nasty Niggas...Fuck Dat!
|
Ya niggas is dead-ass!
|
Know what I'm sayin'?
|
We're payin' my niggaz ' All City 'n shit!
|
Word up! Yo Mega, Fuck Dat!
|
Rip that Brooklyn shit nigga!
|
|
[J. Mega, (Fredro Starr)]
|
|
What? What? What? What? What? What?
|
My fleet goals, by da creep cold
|
We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em
|
We raise the states in this game, like helium
|
The new millenium, got me in mo' for killin' 'em
|
Green backs, I want a mil (of) 'em!
|
But don't minimum, strictly max out, the ol's put the black out
|
Niggaz be frontin', we take the back rob
|
Now stay with that style, original, wanna act wild?
|
City puttin' cartracks out, as we stack now
|
We're nuthin' to match out, formula
|
See it clearly through my corner-ya
|
This goes out to niggas on the corner, Mega's on ya
|
Rap performer, no diploma, I'm sippin' on Corona, keep my carpet Coma
|
The East New York Soldier, what?
|
(Fuck Dat! That's the All City shit!
|
Yo Greg Valentine!)
|
|
[Greg Valentine, (Fredro Starr), {Sticky Fingaz}]
|
|
Yo, the bees be rushin' like petrees(?)
|
You better had that bulletproof vest under ya fleece
|
Then a clever sceam up ya slees, we has to say delease
|
Between the thugs and the police, shit'll never be peace
|
Cause holiday, raise ya weights ya hourly rate
|
We poly for higher states, buyin' fire escapes
|
See this, criminal life is like a 'roll it in dice'
|
Niggaz holdin' they ice, wild bust on a slice
|
Yo it's too often too hot, in this ghetto meldin' pot
|
Put out these fagat ass niggas try to steel what I got
|
As if, that ain't enough, for Jakes is ratin' the spot
|
Where we eat at, but tonight that's where they bleed at
|
That belone her with the flame, throwin' their rain, it's over
|
Prayed to Jehova, jiggaz up, the game's over
|
(All City what, All City what?! Fuck Dat!
|
Yo Sticky) {wassup nigga?}( Come here nigga, Fuck Dat!
|
Let these muthafuckaz know nigga!!!) {I want some NEW SHIT!}
|
(Afficial Nast! What?!!)
|
|
[Sticky Fingaz, (Fredro Starr)]
|
|
Oh ooh, here the thug come, from out the dungeon
|
Say goodbye to ya love one, you can't heard from, the dumb dumb
|
Kickin' WACK SHIT! I cut out ya tongue son! I'm in this rap shit for the LOVESONG!
|
Who can stage as soon as the blunt's out? YOU DON'T WANT NONE!
|
But regardless, readin' WILDEST, you get da MILDEST!
|
I muthafuckin', muthafuckin' murder, want charges!
|
You off getargets, kill any rap artist!
|
Still hate ya GUTS!, and hope that ya DIE!
|
If you're not Allah, then yo' ass gotta FRIE!
|
Soon as life is for a life, without no remorse
|
You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished me off nigga!
|
(What?! Fuck Dat! Fuck Dat!
|
Afficial Nast what up?!
|
Yo Lefty, I got a new nigga for ya niggaz!
|
Yo Fuck Dat! Step up and shit....)
|
|
[Bubba Smith, (Fredro Starr), {X-1}]
|
|
I roll with gat-swingers, that bay arms like tanktops
|
A bunch of problem bringers, that an ass bet ya wanna make your bank stop
|
Guaranteed to make ya block hot, we runnin' the spots
|
We're tired of jizzle 'n rocks, we straight up fuckin' in villains or jachts
|
Got the Big Apple on smash like mobbs, we're livin' hell really?!
|
So we just vanish 'n rob, paper tellin' me we all dyin' from a leg docs(?)
|
So fuck it, it's even get it get-got, so what?!
|
Bring it, I'm closin' now shut, I don't give a FUCK about gettin' popped
|
Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot!
|
It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you
|
For the dolies, niggaz just press G-O
|
While shoot outs, reachin' for the glocks, on my way to gettin' drugs
|
Still spittin' ya, 3-60 pill, I was drugged up, in a sixth still SHITTIN' ya
|
Call it murder, besides anybody TRY to here missin'
|
(Fuck Dat! Yo X -1 nigga!) {What nigga?}
|
(Ya betta fuckin' do this shit nigga!) {What what, what, what?!}
|
(Fuck Dat! Afficial Nasty Niggas!
|
Fuckin' takin' this streets! That niggas is dead!)
|
|
[X - 1, (Fredro Starr)]
|
|
All you crack niggaz, I don't even like your style
|
If it wasn't for love, you be dead right now
|
Speak upon the gun nor, X is layin' it down
|
Dirty two roun |