Lyrics Bleed for Me - Vinnie Paz, Blacastan, Zilla

Bleed for Me

Yo, I ain’t even countin' bars man, you know what I’m sayin'?
(Yeah!) I’m just going!
Shit… Check… Uh!
Yo, introducin' the illest spic, Zilla rip your heart out quick (Uh-huh)
I put a dart out with Paz and make the whole world sick (Let's go)
That boom bap, snatch a rapper with my glue-like grip
I’m the equivalent of Bruce Lee (Waaah!) if he write this
I smack fire out the mic all day, Sinister Groove shit
(Ooh-wops) is cocked and fightin' you on my cruise ship (Let's go)
Welcome to the planet where average niggas’ll bruise quick
We can get it raw, call it usin' Rhythm and Blues Fist (Yea)
See I’mma monster, lock-jaws, pop-fall (POP! POP! POP!)
Rounds in the air, the block know it as black
They tried to say that I was destined to fail
Until I made my city question who could bring it as real
No deal, no dice;
ain’t no luxury here (Uh-huh)
Instead, it’s kill or be killed (killed) and I ain’t writin' a will (Nah!)
So despite all the bullshit, nonsense, setbacks (yea)
I’m 'bout to show the world the way a victory feel (yea that’s right)
Me?
I’m stuck on some hood shit (That's some hood shit)
My cousin clap a nigga quick, your whole melon get split (split)
One shot, Why waste the whole clip?
(A whole clip?)
A wood tip, my flow order niggas out of order thinkin' they’re the shit (Yea)
Fuck a ounce, grab a brick, break it down, flood the strip
Watch the law 'cause they always tryna see who doin' shit
Question: Why niggas say they still affiliate with?
I don’t need fake friends when I’m dealing with shit
You can’t trust 'em, fuck 'em (fuck 'em), get 'em away quick (yea)
Before they start snitchin' (snitchin') and get you locked up quick (You bitch
niggas)
I bang a nigga, I ain’t the type to drop kick
Rainy days, dark nights;
I still make a profit
They be really dressin' all black like they was gothic
Cry in the river like Justin over your casket
I’m always lookin' ahead, never dwellin' on bad shit (Uh-huh)
I never hold work Sino make it fast, bitch
This the O.K.
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper at?
Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town
It’s the O.K.
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper at?
Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town — Come on!
Every single rhyme I write make a buildin' collapse
It go from cell to cell, you can feel the synapse
Matter fact, I let Blac' and Zill' kill 'em with that
Three motherfuckers, three of the illest in rap
We Treacherous Three, that was the pillar of rap
Then Kool Moe Dee made it guerilla to rap
He went at LL, went at his feelings in fact
And at the same time brothers was dealin' with crack
Killin' 'em Softly, Slaine was the villain in that (Slaine you my brother)
Kenny Gill, Vinnie real, he still is intact
You analog, I’m digital and I’m feelin' the dat
I’ve been raw, Tim Dog — Penicillin On Wax (R-I-P!)
Poor Righteous Teacher 'cause I’m dealin' with facts
What’s the price of reefer when you dealin' with math
Punchin' a sucker rapper, maybe I’m guilty for that
He just another rapper, y’all know my feelings on that
Chauvinistic, misogynistic, in every spot I visit
Bitches get twisted, my G is simplistic (haha)
Even fat bitches get crushed too… 'cause I’m optimistic
Director’s chair, life is like a motion picture (nigga!)
The scene from The Godfather, beat ya like Sunny’s sister
Apocalypse Now, Black Hawk Down
Nigga’s talk loose now, but they softer than goose downs
I’m payin' no attention, layin' low like the Benz suspension
Crazily slept on, but still get an honorable mention
Prophetical, last man standin' like The Book of Eli
Lost in Italy, I’m trynna to find a pair of felines
Back to the States where the steaks is great
Feelin' the hate, leavin' 'em bleedin' like females menstruate
Death to those who chose to throw arrows at the Pharaohs
Incineratin' your block, douse you with the Tommy Gun barrels
Official Pistol Gang, bangin' guns like Al-Qaeda — What?!
This the O.K.
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper at?
Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town
It’s the O.K.
Corral, everybody’s hands in the air
(*Click-Clack*) We fixin' to shut it down
Where the jewels and the paper at?
Never a diplomat
Official Pistol Gang 'bout to run this town — Come on!