Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Essence, artist - The Alchemist. Album song 1st Infantry, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.09.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: KOCH Entertainment
Song language: English
Essence |
Definitely the strongest shit on the shelf |
Double R, D-Block (1st infantry) |
Yeah, what, yo, yo… |
Listen, the thugs need it, hoes gon' use it |
Me? |
I’m just a young nigga that make old music |
Uh, shit is real, I put the inf on the 4 |
Keep it wit' me 'cause possessions 9/10ths of the law |
Here I am goin' all out again, doin' all that I can |
Even had a daughter born outta sin |
Nigga, I make pain cinematic |
I spit dope and you been a addict; |
treat beef like jail |
Summertime, somethin' big with the scope under the winter jacket |
I use the winter tactics, and I know you tryin' to play the role |
But bullets the wrong shit to interact wit' |
I hurt the game, hurt ravines |
Soon as you murk somethin' these niggas’ll chirp Janine |
Yeah, let 'em all cock ride, in my mansion with a bottle |
Move a novel and the wall spin counter-clockwise |
Might as well go on, go and see papi |
'Cause niggas only know three words: «He shot me» (Uh) |
That’s why I be eyein' 'em down |
No dap, no rap 'cause these niggas be wired for sound |
But I still put a hole in a goon, Jada Montega |
Still put a hole in a spoon, pay the bond later |
Plenty ones, plenty guns, plenty ammo |
Remember this: «Calmate», ''que te calmo'' mutha-fuckas. |
What! |
«Calamate» «que te calmo» |
Know what that mean, huh? |
Calm down… before I calm you down! |
I don’t wanna talk much |
You gettin' hawked up and chopped up |
Two guns up on your tour bus |
Heard you got the cops wit’chu—that's a goddamn shame |
The talk on your album, I thought you had a block wit’chu? |
Couple niggas to pop wit’chu—you full of shit! |
And the only thing you got is a couple niggas to drop wit’chu |
Waiting for a nigga… wit' a mouth like you |
When they said you was the hottest, they meant out yo' crew |
I’m the hardest in New York City |
Think not? |
I got a Glock, Sheek Louch style, you walk wit me |
You bitch niggas will die leery |
I keep the 9 in the 5 Series |
Why don’t you come work a 9-to-5 wit' me? |
See, the bricks moved, the stick-ups pulled |
I got the killers laying flat down in pickups too |
Pop up and put a clip in your mug |
Hate is different than love, it spread faster—is you gettin' me, cuz? |
Shit, let me explain, my brain is on a different wave |
Everybody get it now—fuck it, it’s a different day |
And suck my dick when I ain’t got shit to say |
Niggas think I’m dumb like I ain’t put them bricks away |
Prepared for the war, anxious to kill |
Bang shit, swing shit, leave you shanked in the grill |
I ain’t give a fuck then or now, when or how |
How many niggas die? |
That depend on Styles |
WHAT! |
(Sheek: And my nephew Alchemist…) |
Ayo, I ain’t seen nothing yet |
Niggas all threat—pussy when they sober, thugs when they wet |
What up, killer? |
Nigga, please, stop frontin' |
You don’t need a safe to hold 5 G’s |
My neck don’t freeze and my wrist don’t either |
I don’t need it—I just copped a house on a Visa |
And I ain’t go platinum, my first album was a teaser |
Now they on my meat like ice in the freezer |
Sheek Louch, I tell you that boy he’s a |
Problem—I take out blackheads like a tweezer |
We’ll discredit you homie and let the wolves eat you |
We don’t need to dump lead at you, homie |
You either in or you out of it |
'Cause I got a son now, and you fuckin' up a lot of shit I gotta get |
And I hate for this to get out of hand |
To have to give it to a nigga I played wit' in the sand |
Shit, the West Coast barely know the name of our band |
That’s why I spit enough heat to give a nigga a tan |
A’ight, I know you got mad cake—okay, nigga, AND? |
Sheek don’t give a fuck, I let my gut hang |
You one day away from lipo and a face tuck |
This that D-Block, Alchemist heat rock |
Yo, I’m fucked up man! |
P pass that blunt |
Yo Busy, where my yak at, son? |
Fuck that, I’m outta here |
Let’s go… |
(R-r-r-reppin' ALC, you know what I’m sayin? 1st Infantry bitch (bitch bitch)) |