Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 100 Degrees , by - 9th Prince. Release date: 27.05.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
100 Degrees |
| Yo, yeah, yeah |
| I don’t even talk to y’all niggas |
| Not on the streets |
| I wanna big up my cousin O.D.B. |
| though |
| Word up, Baby Jesus locked down |
| You know? |
| That’s it, man |
| That’s all I gotta say to y’all niggas |
| You know? |
| Then watch me spit |
| Lyrical warfare, word up |
| Aiyo I’m wise like a blind man playin' piano |
| Jellyin' across the Verazanno bustin' at Sopranos |
| White boys with attitudes like Rocky Marciano |
| Got a fire arm like Janet Reno |
| We serve John Wayne in El Dorado |
| Go to war like Al Pacino |
| Or Robert De Niro Casino |
| The ghetto is pitch dark |
| For the street’s of messenger, the story like Joan of Arc |
| First spark with Stapleton park |
| Gladiators and D&D, before that was the Paris Crew Squad |
| I just to stand up on the benches |
| State of mind, third eye dimension lynchin' |
| Killarm' comrades like henchmen |
| Street doctor leave you paralyzed in St. Vincent |
| End the session with the weapon |
| Madman reach for the sky and snatch the Moon out the Heaven |
| Attack you with the Mac-11 |
| Shots let off that’ll rip thru ya flesh |
| Pull bullets the shape of sevens, keep steppin' |
| Lethal rejection, high scene rock mine, BONG! |
| Heavyweight blows to ya midsection, Madman is comin' |
| You best to head the opposite direction |
| Aiyo Madman drag 'em thru the dark streets of reality |
| Matrix combat, projects go to war from Shaolin to Iraq |
| When fake niggas bust their heat, real soldiers bust back (bust back) |
| Aiyo I spit razors at haters |
| I’m a walkin' skyscraper like Wolf Blazer |
| We blase lasers at invaders, that’s infantry behavior |
| 1−2-0 precinct slang faders |
| Weak niggas get robbed in pissy elevators |
| Rappers bite like alligators |
| We bust CD’s inside Navigators |
| I ain’t pretty, life is risky |
| Like my act against Species |
| Migrate, United States, the cities, Madman prophecies |
| I had to duck four shots comin' out of 260 lobby |
| Islord picked me up in a stolen Mazurati |
| With two hotties with two sawed off shotti’s |
| Beretta know karate |
| Fuck around in half lead half metal |
| On to beat a body, soon to be a millionaire like Bill Cosby |
| Dom P. accept the collect calls from John Gotti |
| We ain’t gangstas we shankstas that’ll shank ya |
| Bitch ass niggas get hung with coat hangers |
| We keep bustin', ain’t no trustin', nobody |
| On these dark streets. |
| word up |
| Yo O.D.B., big cuz, Baby Jesus |
| Killarm', we gon' come break ya ass out, nigga |
| Word up, we keep preppin' this shit |
| 9th Prince y’all, Madman y’all |
| Throw ya grenades up |
| Word |