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