Lyrics Channel 10 - Capone-N-Noreaga

Channel 10

It takes nothin' but a hot slug to fill a villian
'Cause I’m about to make a killin'
Some weed to escalate the feelin'
I regulate the dealin' jealous niggas hate the feelin'
I stack my safe appealin' jake on my trace I’m peelin'
And with a MAC I had the whole fuckin' nation kneelin'
Embrace the wheel and hit a buck without crashin' fuck
My drug passion got a nigga stashin' fast what
One love to Hillbillies, run forever out to Chile
Playin' the cuts nigga what can’t stop the willy
Cops harassin' niggas blastin' while the day' passin'
Time for action cock the mac what a satisfaction
Shoot laughin' slug caught up in the chest gaspin'
Nigga blanked out chopped before he start rappin'
Microchips in the celly the game don’t stop (don't stop)
Tappin' in your bank funds with the laptop (laptop)
Wanna own a block before the ball drop (ball drop)
Arab Nazi puttin' hits on the cops (x2)
Noreaga talking:
Word up son fucked up son word up Trag.
I know you know us both man but it
Took the penal for us to click youknowhatI’msayin'?
(yeah y’all met up
North) KnowhatI’msayin' we had to meet up north (know what’s real about all
This though that…) What real about it?
(we were young we strive we trying
To eat knowhatI’msayin'?) God degree (we got a lot of fake niggas out man)
7−3 and 12 jewels.
Niggas ain’t bustin' that heat man.
Niggas just frontin'
Yo they ain’t bustin' they heat they know who they is.
(I'm tellin' my…)
Know who they is.
(yo word is born)
C.N.N.
network channel 10 it’s on again
Street niggas that’s grown men
Bold face gat in your face stay in your place
Yo crime-laced, catch more beef than Scarface (x2)
Court case illegal minds too late
Back in '92 (you remember Juice son?)
I bucked toast and got locked General Emanuel
Cell block cold crop
Go bagged up weak by cream cop
(FUCK THE WORLD) The way the world cold dissed me
Haile Selassie, Papi, locked with posse, call up Khadafi
Collect call from Arab Nazi, the Foul Mahdi
You relate in jail gate (what what, what what!)
Them new jacks they comin' through
Scared to death from the jail stories that’s true
You cold weak, live life on the street
While locked up, homoed out with pink sheets (bitch nigga!)
Discrete, in your cell, shook to sleep
I wiled out, no doubt, 'til the day I’m out
Me personally, (what!) I did three kid you weak
Your station in P. C
Outro:
Son fuck this jail shit so tell 'em about the streets son (echo)