Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song It's Yours , by - Pacewon. Song from the album Won, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 04.03.2002
Record label: Rufflife
Song language: English
It's Yours |
| Yo, huh?. |
| What? |
| It’s your/it's your/it's your — it’s yours! |
| You have now entered the realm of the Pacewon zone |
| Where the rudebwoys rule and the pussies run home |
| Or the shots that ring out, or the ass I done beat |
| Niggas don’t wanna bring out the bad side of me |
| I rolled on your set, you poets need practice |
| MC’s like rugs; |
| I walk on these rappers |
| Huh — heads or tails, I flip pennies |
| Uptown buyin hydro with counterfeit twenties |
| Soldier, take control of |
| Your body and your mind like yoga, play you like poker |
| Black like Roker; |
| cops press charges |
| But my lawyer get me over — more blunts to roll up |
| The streets ain’t safe at night (it ain’t safe) |
| The gangs come out at night (they come out) |
| Stick-up kids get robbed tonight (you get robbed) |
| The innocent get raped at night (innocent get raped) |
| Even on Halloween; |
| when the fiends |
| Come out with paper bags and tight jeans |
| Askin for credit? |
| You can forget it! |
| North, South, East, West! |
| … Yo, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up |
| It’s your/it's your/it's your — it’s yours! |
| Pacewon in a rush ta, bust off loads |
| Really with drugs, sendin +Thugs+ to the «Crossroads» |
| Goin to war with my four-fifth and more clips |
| Than the ghetto got poor kids, welfare and orphans |
| Top seeded; |
| pissed like a boxer |
| When his nose start bleedin, movin on heathens |
| Lockin up BM’s — me Zee and Ra three |
| Immortal rap beings, don’t catch feelings |
| Mr. Perfect, cause a disturbance |
| Like the Rodney King verdict |
| Violent like your father when he drunk off bourbon |
| Money sex and burners |
| Before you walk the streets make sure you got insurance |
| Hey-a, praise-the, Pa-cer |
| I-got, fatter bags of raps than your local 2-for-5 spot |
| Wanna bust me but can’t cause you Krusty |
| Like a clown from the Simpsons. |
| Kids like you go up in flames like instant, better stay distant |
| Cash your chips in, or die like Richard Nixon |
| Deep don’t sleep as much as I need to |
| Pacewon I stick to my guns like M.O.P. |
| do |
| Rap ciphers, graffiti, lighters |
| Feel the packed pistols, love the Outsidaz |
| The streets is on fire, rawness, flawless |
| Kickin chumps dead in the chest like Chuck Norris |
| Shoot at the beast, Crooked I to East Orange |
| We ready to rock, my block the hardcorest |
| Money and sex, drugs you better learn this |
| Before you walk the streets make sure you got insurance |
| It’s yours! |
| It’s your/it's your/it's your — it’s yours! |
| It’s yours! |
| It’s your/it's your/it's your — it’s yours! |
| It’s yours! |
| It’s your/it's your/it's your — it’s yours! |
| — to fade |