Lyrics Twinz - Heltah Skeltah

Twinz

Brownsville in this son' bitch, that’s Brooklyn
Robbery capital, jack or clap a fool, night or afternoon
I ain’t hide, nigga, Google me, matter fact
I direct you to the street, Sachman and Belmont, just bring a sleuth of heat
Sephlo PJ’s, Sachman Street pee stain
Buzzing with the dirty dozen, that’s a mean yae
I chase down niggas like you chase brown liquor
On my pivot like the chamber on the trey pound, bitches
I love New York, but I hate clown bitches
Not a chance will I tango with you stank foul bitches
And I ain’t tailor made for play around witcha
Sharks in the water, you ain’t got to wait around, nigga
Welcome to Bucktown, soon as I touchdown
Newport in my mouth, niggas want bust downs
Ruck is the best rapper, what do that make Rock?
Make him my twin brother, muthafucka, the bank stop, P.
We the illest and realest truthfully (yes indeed)
We the illest and realest, tell 'em (man, they already see)
We the illest and realest totally (it's D.I.R.T.)
We the illest and realest two niggas you ever seen
All my smokers light it up, to this I’ll shit
All my drinkers bottoms up, to this real shit
All my riders stand up, to this I’ll shit
Real shit, 'Ville shit, ya’ll got to feel this
Yo, listen, bang on your force, ya’ll niggas can’t hang with a boss
Jesus the name, no, I’m not the lame on the cross
Hating the north, north niggas hating the south
Hating you all, fuck it, throw the eight in your mouth
Sean Price a/k/a President P
Resident Evil, evil, bend the eagles, squeeze at your fleet
Grown man rap, everybody on the team is dirty
Everybody on your team, jeans dirty
Ya’ll niggas is bums, and Ruckus can’t take it no more
Give me your gun, permanently put his face on the floor
Listen, best flow and let the whole U.S. know
Let the sket blow, holla, me and Sephlo Dollar
Welcome to Bedrock, watch for the feds and the cops
Watch for the red dots, don’t get your head shot
Who the fuck is the best, Rock, what do that make Ruck?
Make him my twin brother, muthafucka, that’s gangsta
Listen, Tyra, I’m not a model, bitch, I’m not a rasta
But Rock’s America’s Next Top Jotta
Sket pop locker, I test drive shotguns
Slugs in your mug, fuck doctors, you dead, God gotcha
Then it’s back to my youth, the same D.I.
Got dro in the street like my name T.I.
Put fear in you niggas like the old Death Row
Jump get shot in the jaw, give you smoke neck lows
Yo, knife in my right, the sket on the left
Put the gun to your head and the Gillette to your neck
Sean Price is the best in the west, I mean the beast from the east
Super rappers see the S on my chest
Son of Jarel, gun and an L, top shotter
Rosary beads, you bleed stigmata, the kid’s hotter
My rap style is gene se qua
Mixed with stupidity, it’ll be curtains for ya’ll, P!