| Yeah, another one, the mad butcher
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| 12 O’Clock, Prodigal Sunn, Bronze Nazareth
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| Two On Da Road, yeah, Think Differently
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| My nigga Dreddy Kruger, yeah
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| Sunny shazaam, spark any part of ya jam
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| I am that I am, cannons like 'Samite Sam
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| That’ll break ya ass up, like the hits on my ram
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| Legit on the cam, plus I do it, for the love of my fam
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| No wool over my eyes, been in the game, see through the lies
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| Ready and live, for them spies, try’nna see my demise
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| Zini on the rise, moving the sky, stay on the top
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| Late for the drop, keep clear, from them hip hop cops
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| Ain’t no stopping what I’m willing, drilling
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| Do it for the love of the children, double some millions
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| The industry, a couple of billions
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| For killing the struggle, the war, the hustle
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| Remain like a muscle, solid Bronze, cooler than Fonze
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| Spit it like balms, seven dot coms, the man supreme
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| Queen with the charm, the king who keeps his loot all calm
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| Known to bare arms, moving some harm, off that burning bush
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| Twisting that diesel kush, lethal like some George Bush
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| Hip hop to me, is like food in the stomach
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| I bust in a nut that feel it, when you pumping
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| I rock a buggy eyed Benz, four hundred and something
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| My hands in my pocket, dead preses' by the bunches
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| My daughter birthday is on the candle in the pumpkin
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| I’m on the highway, Flex Master when he Funkin' it
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| Mmm. |
| I burn that kush, look out for them cops, they crooks
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| Do more crimes than son in Brook
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| I’m on the corner, arm break when it put
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| We looking harder than coke when it’s cooked
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| Got niggas scared to look
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| Know the fo’fo leave a hole, as wide as a book
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| I’m from Bedstuy, do or die, heart of the Brook
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| Lies get took, stick up kids live off the juks
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| Must the gun in ya face, nigga, call you a puss'
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| Out of town niggas shaking, when they come through, they shook
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| Watch a king, nigga, my queen got your check' with the rook
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| Guard ya fifty two block, nigga, the jab and the hook
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| Where the barrels roar, pharaohs war where I aerosol
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| Ran deep in the streets like a marathon
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| Vagabond, with Haggler arms, strangle with a herring bone
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| Piano grand style, hand the man a fan and bow
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| To the upmost, respect me to the muthafuckin' glucose
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| Erode most to the last atom, home, batter domes
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| They use my chatter for better holes
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| Buyin' this, ridin' it, cherry picture, rusty blades
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| That’s my sound, it run the crowd jewels by the pound
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| Stake niggas up, but if I must, I get down
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| Keep northern lights lit, from bush trim close
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| Glove box stashed equipped with the UFO’s for the foes
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| Shatter bones like Mexican bulls
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| Play me close, you find yourself on from any hope
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| Got plenty rope, third eye, sigh for any scope
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| As far as I know, nigga, my artist control
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| By the hand written part of my soul
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| While the life line pardon the notes
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| The modern magna carta, art show from the barrel of the gun choke
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| Sean Price is the nicest MC in the world to ever write a rap
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| This the way I get paid, unless you box and crack
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| I write a rap in a minute, niggas dig it for years
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| Cuz they love it when I spit the bullshit in they ear
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| Yellow bus niggas can’t read or write too good
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| But they sell whites white, and they nice with good
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| Listen, I spit a gem star, on you and your friend, pa
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| Then spar ten rattles in your friend car
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| Sean the Boss, I’m the best in the world
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| You’se a bitch, and you soft like the breasts on your girl
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| Bump bitches suck dick for the wash and say
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| With they finger 'round the collar, holla 'wash ya neck'
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| Listen, Dikembo Mutumbo, feliz navidad
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| You buy Ecko, they give us free, like Amistad
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| Listen, make some noise if you wanna receive this
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| Shot the gun, voice one, stolen your Jesus, P |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 5th Chamber , by - Bronze Nazareth. Song from the album Bronzestrumentals Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп