| Yeah
|
| '94 shit
|
| Uh, as the preacher takes the pulpit
|
| Fix your coat, prepare for 40 below spit
|
| Seven days of Heaven’s ways and Hell’s hangups
|
| Chris and Ryan again and we wishing anybody who wasn’t wishing us well bankrupt
|
| A «L"and whatever else ain’t up
|
| As far as me I’m still caught up in all the gun shit
|
| Still calling my bullets expendables cause it’s hard to believe
|
| I can fit all of them boys in one clip
|
| I squeeze off and the streets start trembling
|
| It’s way too many niggas that seen shit, too many witnesses
|
| Up and down with their visions of what a street nigga is
|
| I call it the See-Saw Syndrome
|
| Syndrome maybe you make a mistake, you lose
|
| And this is for the real hip-hop niggas
|
| Who will never ever ever ask me am I here to replace Guru
|
| Word, that’s what you feel up in this track?
|
| Let a bitch nigga try to shit on that
|
| Oh what you trying to rap now?
|
| Haha!
|
| Yeah, yo Royce (what up, man)
|
| We just lamping in the studio
|
| You know, doing our thing (Okay)
|
| We bugging out, you know (Right)
|
| A little test run
|
| So
|
| So
|
| I need you to speak with your hands
|
| On the count of three
|
| Everybody now
|
| Go
|
| «Talk to 'em»
|
| «Who stepped up in this rap game, a sane actin' fool»
|
| «Me and Preem, both names go together»
|
| «Lot of niggas fronting like they’re ill»
|
| Word
|
| I think it’s time to move on to the next one |