Lyrics Connected - Ja Rule, Eastwood, Crooked I

Connected

Woooooo
Murder Inc Motherfucker
We world wide connected, and ya’ll don’t want to fuck with us
In the streets we respected, so ya’ll don’t want to fuck wit us
World wide connected nigga, ya’ll don’t want to fuck wit us
We gangster ass niggas and we hard to hit
Murder Inc in the role who could fuck wit this
It ain’t no verse mother fuckers who fake east thugs
Its murder Inc and the Row nigga throw up your dub
They show us love in the club real niggas bossed up man
We heavily intoxicated so toss it up
Attacks your mind and your conscience
Written to enhance this verbally thugs grammar
I’m bout to touch the roof wit it
Extraordinary and I was never ordinary in cemetery
Bisit my thugs in mortuaries
End all most reality young name and 'Pac
I’m a keep my heat tucked until my soul goes pop
I hear a lot of niggas rapping
But there ain’t that many rappers out there scraping and keep it cracking
We keep it happening
I’m a million out the gate
No scratch that 8 from cd’s to tapes we rock like earthquakes
I’m Eastwood catch me dipping a Fleetwood like a g should
Young Eastwood is so damn good
Nigga Crooked I is raw spit
Murder Inc. and the Row, we all sick
So all niggas involved get mauled quick as a dog, and the braul gets you to fall
Then I’ma draw quick, nigga awwww shit
Punks talking lip, I haul off quick
Wit a sawed off kick it’s like you fall off cliffs
Y’all call it off before all y’all get stomped
Like you’re fallen off in a raw mosh pit
Off in a ditch your coffin’ll sit
While I floss in the awesomest whips and I toss in your chicks
Your caution when your calling your six
Cause your talk can get you crossed and lost in the mix
I’m a pause in the bitch bossed in the pits
Burn I serve niggas stay off at ya clique
Spend off with ya grip my land of gangreen
You have the doctors taking your leg off of your hip
Motherfucker!
All y’all niggas need to get off my dick
I spit it how I live it plus the flows real sick
Bronchial eating
I got killers ranged from Compton to Cleveland
World wide connected air tight niggas there’s no breathing
Give me the reason I put a halo throw your mental
And give your the Holy Spirit and see you to gods temple
I’m the avenging angle and earth be thy claim
And Ja be thy name, I know your all praying
For the day of my diminishing
Why don’t somebody finish them off and put it right through his cross
The X’s The 50'S ya’ll gotta be kidding me
These niggas is my sons
Raised them from young
Curtis and lil earl, should of been little girls
Coz they bitchmade now they act like one of my itchbays
Touche the rule is more than ready
Gun heavy, and worldwide connected feel me?