Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rise Up, artist - Ghostface Killah. Date of issue: 25.06.2015
Song language: English
Rise Up |
| Back on the grind, Molotov bottles and pipe bombs |
| There’s war on the streets like Vietnam |
| Bodies is flung, enemies hung, capos is killed |
| Kidnap your family and wives with no guilt |
| No lines drawn, It’s all out war for domination |
| Robbing safes in safe houses, no leaving traces |
| Destruction, Black mafiosos and militants |
| It’s all for the king of New York and they killing it |
| Crime wave, rioting, streets flooded with blood |
| Bullet holes through tuxedos, wet suit skirts up |
| Big Kahuna with the cajones, come through with your homies |
| Shoot the Ruger where your dome is, while you in your chones |
| Then regroup up with my homies, less they can’t run a crew |
| Split the loot up with the chromies, in a room with a view |
| Watch the corners, they on us, laying low with the clues |
| Guzzle cash, that’s the walls of how to wait, got a few |
| I don’t get out much, I’m in the cut with my crew |
| A clan of vicious guerrillas, banana clips aimed at you |
| Itchy fingers, malicious killers, valicious my troop |
| Come to pillage your village, level your root to the stoop |
| Trigonometry, honestly, nigga, I’m a G |
| Follow these streets scholarly, all would I do for this loot |
| Figure courage be piling the change upon us |
| To slaughter it, yeah, it’s heartless, I’ve gotta get deadbeat loose |
| The Luger’s rain, man, ain’t nothing but purp bitch |
| That’s the cane clan, they ain’t nothing to fuck with |
| My tools say blam, change man to chump bits |
| Fools gonna lay in the Hudson or some ditch |
| Rolling slow with a gangster lean |
| Pimped out in the Coupe de ville '72 |
| Lock and load on patrol, lotta hoes on the stroll |
| Give me street 411 like whoop-de-whoop |
| Where’s the cane man? |
| How many nights I live by this dupe? |
| Names change like slang, still be aiming to shoot |
| Call it pop-pop poacher and note the .45 will rise up |
| Message worth it’s weight in gold, he a beast |
| When God made his son, he broke the mold |
| Crushing De Lucas, they tryna dismember cane, silly game |
| Watch his downfall, put an end to it |
| Street laws, gangsters pulling murders and drive-bys |
| New York city, flood the streets with cyanide, poison |
| The boys in blue don’t want none of it |
| Watching cane ride the power, and I’m loving it |