| «Tony Starks fights again for survival,
|
| and by just a thin thread of electric current
|
| wins another victory.»
|
| Ugh, c’mon, yeah, c’mon y’all
|
| (Bounce wit us) Hip-hop
|
| (What? Celebrities, what?)
|
| (Street corner) For all my niggas
|
| Crack spot niggas
|
| Chicken ass mothafuckas, envious bitches
|
| Yo, you know what y’all…
|
| Make me wan’pop sumthin', no champagne
|
| Two-five on me, weed and crack stalk me Bitch motherfucker tried to get a rep’off me Leave him there, never know, get him off me I remember days when we just fucked bitches
|
| Bought a lot of clothes and just played the ave.
|
| Now we rap niggas with a lot of wardrobes
|
| and if we want a nigga dead we pay the cash
|
| I ain’t tryin to waste my career on y’all
|
| Even scuffle with y’all, waste gear on y’all
|
| But if I gotta go out, you know I’ma show out
|
| You gon’fuck around and get your whole back blown out
|
| I remember on the Island, can’t tone out
|
| The mess hall crawler, about to zone out
|
| Dumb motherfuckers with our microphone out
|
| We just dumb motherfuckers with our microphone out
|
| See. |
| see. |
| see me I roll with Ghost and cats that carry they toast and
|
| make the post and from pagin, sin astasian
|
| When it’s time to bust off them things, it ain’t a game man
|
| We rocked out own diamond rings, see them 'Bling, Bling'
|
| Got big boy toys, Porsche, Sixes
|
| Dime bitches, told y’all before we import those
|
| Jury stay froze, court cases get closed
|
| Niggas hate Nino cuz how fast I roast them
|
| Like George Jefferson and em, steppin on em The headline read, «Starks had the weapon on em»
|
| The best, what y’all expect? |
| He a vet
|
| Plus the best, now tell me how we gon’foul
|
| when we dealin with 'Supreme Clientele'
|
| >From Riker’s Island to the Camay Island
|
| We thugs like, life is the same challenge
|
| Do the knowledge, recognize your talent
|
| And if you live the streets, you better stay silent
|
| Yo, spotted at a mirage, Ghostface walked by groupies
|
| Minkal monk stars, I come in cat, invades Mars
|
| Hallyed at a sanctuary, first dent placed upon entry
|
| Fainted when the book mentioned me Keep ballin, new systems, high sciences
|
| Drop that, Ghost listenin, the track sizzlin
|
| Angelica, Judey Plum for bitches, Goines king of the century
|
| Best sellers, but niggas stay together
|
| Posted up trucks, leanin on the Benz
|
| Cinemax smile shot in thrity-five lens
|
| You program, broke bottles of Dom
|
| Seven inch bangles, back breakers
|
| I’m a dope feed, look at my art, Popeye stren>h Rap with a British accent, Gucci clothes
|
| Dennis Coles in the latest fashions
|
| Blow backs in, flip raps like fourty-eight bundles
|
| Dinner plates, deadly front gates, celeb Brian Gumble
|
| Interlapse this in like Deniro, words in your center earhole
|
| Blocks of ice like Sub-Zero, we been right since day zero
|
| Shatter your soul like glass windows
|
| Turn verses to nymphos, pop these hollows at fake cats in a Tahoe
|
| Wild out, throw your liquor bottles at hood rats to the richest models
|
| We conversate like Christ and the twelve apostles
|
| Livin life without you, can’t count you as great men
|
| Murderers in the state pen', bein caged in The wage is a sin, before they read up they pop our tape in You ain’t gotta tuck you chain in cuz here we want the head of Satan
|
| Durags and our pants hangin
|
| Uh-huh, uh-huh
|
| That’s right y’all
|
| Street corners
|
| Jail niggas
|
| Riker’s Island
|
| Ge-Grey Haven
|
| Big Un That’s right y’all
|
| Word up All y’all, all y’all crumbs
|
| We made it, nigga
|
| Step the fuck off
|
| True indeed, true indeed
|
| Yeah, Ready Red
|
| That’s right, my nigga Born
|
| That’s right yo Lil’Free in the feds
|
| That’s right, you’ll be home nigga
|
| Yeah, we made it Yeah, C Allah, word up That’s fam
|
| Yeah, check it out
|
| Staten Island
|
| True indeed
|
| Five boroughs
|
| Check it, uh-huh |