| Uhh, this real New York shit right here man
|
| You already know
|
| Kool Keith, Gee-Banga let’s go
|
| (Ced Gee, Ultra, uhh)
|
| Uhh, uhh, yo, yo
|
| I wanted keys in my collection, so I loaded bullets in my weapon
|
| Put on my gear, gun in my hand, prepare for this 187
|
| See I’m a hustler, not a murderer
|
| But if you get on my fuckin nerves then I’m gon' have to murder ya
|
| Badder than stores that’s from the Saudia
|
| Pull out my tec, gunnin yout neck execution style and just slaughter ya
|
| Cookin them cracks that you be coughin up
|
| Really don’t give a fuck about family or who you the son of daughter of
|
| You gon' really make me have to torture ya
|
| But that’s my second name in the hood, you can call me the extortion
|
| G to the Danger is the enforcer of, G.K.B
|
| And gangster shit that the streets could ever offer ya
|
| I always been less fortunate; |
| so I fuck bitches
|
| Party and drink and blow that sticky to get up off of it
|
| When in reality you the talk of it
|
| So don’t be surprised me cock back and be demandin you take off your shit
|
| This is war, son you know we always packin that 4
|
| And we puttin bullets straight through your door
|
| Plus we stayin on point cause we don’t wanna fall
|
| If you get caught slippin you’ll get killed for sure — brrrap!
|
| This is war, son you know we always packin that 4
|
| And we puttin bullets straight through your door
|
| Plus we stayin on point cause we don’t wanna fall
|
| If you get caught slippin you’ll get killed for sure
|
| I’m international, worldwide traveller beyond that block shit
|
| You hear about it, y’all can’t avoid it when I drop shit
|
| It’s like takin a fat-ass sumo wrestler out with a dropkick
|
| You get they rap careers started, my job is stop shit
|
| Piss on anything y’all spit
|
| Door #1, I can play Bob, Barker
|
| Your bitch can’t bid here
|
| Better stay with the cock she picked, with sauce on her lip boss
|
| I fuck up your lip gloss
|
| Get your handicap games out nigga, cause you gonna limp across
|
| Like a slow man in the street
|
| Y’all niggas put up your umbrellas up
|
| Nobody wanna fuck with my sunstroke heat
|
| That’s on the strength~! |
| After you leave, the car wash
|
| I shit on top of your Cherokee Jeep
|
| When I knock on the door
|
| Niggas play like they not home, cause they scared to speak!
|
| Sleepin under beds, wrapped up in fuckin sheets!
|
| Sega Genesah nigga we finish a nigga
|
| Yeah, check it
|
| Dawg you cross me, you might as well take your own life
|
| See I ain’t takin no prisoners son, I’m even murderin your wife
|
| Slaughterin all your kids, yeah, I’m that trife
|
| Then sit down listen to your rep and give a thorough sermon
|
| About the wrath of Christ
|
| Drink some hot cocoa, sleep well that night
|
| Then wake up in the mornin, and write some Ultra elevation
|
| Do a show in Italy dawg, then listen to a standin ovation
|
| Make a couple of songs in Haitian
|
| Spanish and Japanese, bee-da-dong-yong
|
| I’m great son, make no mistake son
|
| You sleep on me all you want, and I bet you they find yo' ass in a lake son
|
| This is war…
|
| This is war…
|
| This is war… |