| Eh yo, eh yo, eh yo
|
| Yo, yo, yo
|
| My son want his back, fuck that (my shine is beautiful)
|
| It’s time right now, you know?
|
| It’s like we ain’t fuckin with no lame ass niggas no more
|
| Bein bullshit by bullshit niggas (for real)
|
| Am I my brother’s keeper?
|
| Theres no need to ask, I’m the creeper
|
| Million dollar man, Johnny Cash
|
| Puff the reefer, sometimes mix it with the hash
|
| Hard to keep up, 100 yards dash, beat your feet up
|
| Jumpin Jack Flash on a muthafuckas ass
|
| Caught 'em in the weed stash tryin to tap the bag
|
| Now he suspect, read him his rights, it’s only right
|
| I never, never, never in my long-legged life
|
| Ever bite like shark niggas, got an appetite
|
| For destruction, lusting for dough, it’s disgusting
|
| Disgraceful, end of disscusion, this tasteful
|
| Like cyanide erase you, pull up, let me take two
|
| Come all you faithful, Meth and Shyheim
|
| Tommy Hilfiger, that I’m a Johnny 'field nigga
|
| Till I die, S.I.N.Y. |
| testify
|
| Girlfriend sweating my game, killing my high
|
| I’m a 100 proof, like Smirnoff blue label
|
| I’m so wild, got housearrest bracelets on each ankle
|
| I break you, something fatal and make New Jersey trade you
|
| You don’t got game, so niggas don’t playa-hate you
|
| Come back to Brooklyn, the ya G’s gone
|
| Chase you up, batted in dun, dun
|
| Nike won’t endorse you so you rock an And-1
|
| I pull out the M-1 and hit you handsome
|
| Cuz you forcin it, you can hang it up like an ornament
|
| End your actin career, put you back in street tournaments
|
| Run for your life, like you doing suicides
|
| When even use your scrub ass, Live '9−9
|
| Am I my brother’s keeper?
|
| There’s no need to ask
|
| I ride for my brothers, give me the gun and the mask
|
| We be in the bushes like The Down Low stash
|
| Pop up like a warrant, let off on that ass
|
| Yo.
|
| Y’all could catch the player Inf' way beyond calm
|
| Sharp and on bomb chron, rockin my Sean John
|
| Copin the bomb chron from Sharon on the quan
|
| Got me chinky-eyed like a Hong Kong don
|
| Fire arm palm, cock back caution
|
| Alarm for the chumps, boy what you think you gon' palm with my charms
|
| Better pay attention to the harm in my palm and it’s fully-loaded
|
| If I said it, could he hold it?
|
| But once he seen the gun I said, «son, look he bolted»
|
| Son, look he noted, the Berrettas’ll shever, but he was clever
|
| He stopped screwing and he blew in his vendettas
|
| His crew was in to leathers, Avirex and guns
|
| Some of them was smart but I could say the rest was dumb
|
| So I played the vest for dumb and saved the checks for dumb
|
| Cuz they hard-head niggas who graze and steadily come
|
| To be leakin something, you could care for speakin
|
| Frontin bout shit they stick, instead of zip they lip
|
| They was young niggas, you know the young dumb niggas
|
| Who don’t care how they get it as it come, nigga
|
| Hey, hey…
|
| Are you that little guy makin all that big noise? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Am I My Brothers Keeper , by - Method Man. Song from the album Manchild, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп