| Gyeah, It’s like New York’s been soft
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| Ever since my nigga Shyne been sittin' in prison
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| Yeah
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| Shyne
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| Check it, sick things, sick rings, this shit is sickening
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| Sick chains sick aim, 5th bang 5th frame
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| Bail money lawyers actin' funny when I come through
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| Hit 'em with a bundle on the humble
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| Couple notes, seen Boy George with a Rolls
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| Shit, I want one too
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| What the fuck I’m gon' do
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| But get it if it’s there to be gotten 'til I’m dried and rotten
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| And I’m rockin' sideways muthafucka crime pays
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| I need it, I’ll get it, I got it, I’ll chop it, I’ll double the profit
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| And bubble the pockets, I’m living to die
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| Niggas talk fly 'til I walk by and pop somethin'
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| Muthafuckas forgot somethin', I’m not frontin'
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| This ain’t rap, music this ain’t that
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| You fuck around I’ll have you sleepin' where the saints at
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| Sincerely yours Shyne muthafuckin' Po
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| Bitch get yo' bags hit the muthafuckin' do'
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| May the angels walk with me, more or less
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| Big things, big rims nigga, more or less
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| Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
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| I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less
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| A G is a G, a ki is a ki, a snitch is a fish (as in kilo)
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| With no fins that can’t swim when I dump him in the river
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| Charcoal gray R, 12 cylinders bulletproof sentences
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| Trial day tentative
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| I sound like who? |
| ya’ll sound like trash
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| Get off my dick and pass my cash
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| They don’t do it cause I rap about it
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| I rap about it cause they do it
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| My music’s the conduit to a ticket, I live it
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| Bitch nigga, I cook it and pitch it
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| Wipe the prints up off the shit and ditch it, uh
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| Hip-Hop ain’t responsible for violence in America
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| America’s responsible for violence America
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| Back to the flow nose full of blow
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| Rolls full of hoes, leave a nigga clothes full of holes
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| The schools didn’t want me so the drug dealers taught me
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| Simple math, step on it twice and bring it back
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| Get 4 times what you paid, divide the labor costs
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| And still come away with enough to play
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| And I see the same shit in niggas younger than me
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| Runnin' the streets lookin for somethin' to eat
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| Ole boy betta get down better run for cover
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| When I spit rounds ah you in some shit now
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| Get found slit down to the white meat
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| I’m from Brooklyn, Vietnam nigga, I like beef
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| But being a bird in the street, double plight
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| Livin' a troubled life, father was a jerk
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| Moms had to work, papi had the works
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| So I did what any real nigga would do
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| Got in front the stove, now I got this shit sold
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| Fuck you punk niggas wit' yo' punk cash
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| Let the pump blast, put yo punk ass in the trunk fast
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| The fuck y’all thought
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| I bury niggas in walls, I’mma trill muthafucka after all
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| Point blank shootin niggas point blank all the way to the bank
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| Rip yo face off then I take off
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| The difference between me and them, you won’t be seein' them
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| No more, nigga, secrets of war |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song More Or Less , by - Shyne. Song from the album godfather buried alive, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп