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[Intro: La The Darkman]
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Yeah. Yeah. Yo. Yo.
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Yo. Trapacanti. Yo.
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[Chorus: La The Darkman]
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When I walk these streets, like bamboo, I'm strapped
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Get your brain tapped by fourty-four caliber gats
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It ain't like that, cats gotta learn to relax
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If I let the gun clap, you have no wish, you're on your ass
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[La The Darkman]
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If you see at cat without his vest hangin by his neck
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Then La done it, I'm tryin to see this benz six-hundred
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With a fly bitch, a gat and cognac gettin blunted
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Readin the tablet of my money from the kids that I fronted
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You don't want it, shootin slugs outta an armored green lex
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>From four pounds that fuck you up like a plane wreck
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Don't gamble with a tech, car is quicker than the eye
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My style, top secret like a Bosnian spy
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Now Y, New York have you laced in chalk
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The South Bronx, what you thought when we let are guns talk?
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It's bloodsport, the Darkman call it like he sees
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Been in buildings, doin eighty in a black m3
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Medallion swingin a linx, costin bount ten g's
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N.Y.C., where killas bust cops at me
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[Chorus]
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[La The Darkman]
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New York ain't fuckin playas, we live gun sprayers
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Movin crack frm the streets of Manhatt' to the Himalayans
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Amadeus, why these Cali craps tryin to front?
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Ass gotta cut ropes, tryin to bungee jump
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Tight cunt, all white planes roll, we night creepers
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in bubble coats, eight hundred beapers, force one sneakers
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I stay fly, holdin it down for my block
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What up ock? You could get a four-four shot
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And don't think it can't happen cuz you on the T.V. rappin
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I sneakin from B.X., B.K. and the Staten
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Manhatten and Queens jookin kids for rings
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New York, New York, the big city of dreams
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Some rap legends were put in jail, you thought we failed
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Now I'm back like LL, when he was rockin the bells
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Takin rap back to the days of foodstamps and tramps
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Pit stains in the stair case and vise-grip clamps
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Kid, I'm amped, cats try to diss the originators
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In Land Cruisers, on Timbs, subways and elevators
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Holdin steel, you frontin niggaz better get real
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I'm gettin money, blow my nose with a hundred dollar bill
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How you feel? And fuck where you at, it's where you from
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To that cats, that's eighty-five: blind, deaf and dumb
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Run and get your gun, I come in the name of Allah
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To my people, the Inglewood family swine, power refined
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You can't see, we runnin outta time
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If the east and west kill eachother, who gon' shine?
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We losin our mind, the rap shit is turnin into crime
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Nowadays soft niggaz bust techs and nines
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So, what?
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Now Y
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| La the Darkman |
