Lyrics:
the law on us
They want us in jails, with bails too high to bond, but am I the Don?
Shit, I'll be out by the morn', word bond
My game is on lock, till
of mischief
Made an album so raw the way you just had to get it, every track explicit
I figured those of you who was in love with rap would listen
And tell
club, yabba dabba doo dud
You can make the fattest record yo, and still be crud
Brothers want to keep you in the heart where the home is
Where the dome is
wavy
Til then it's seize the day babe bro carpe diem
3rd Verse:
Jesus H fucking Christ
NE$$ yo you the Fuckin' nice
U Gotdamn Fuckin' right
Keep my name up out yo mouth better keep that head down watch the ground
Imma never get involved in all that petty shit
Don't fuck around
Tryna be
(To all you talkin' all that bullshit)
(Imma put it to you like this)
Ey yo I'm tryn'a make these niggas go bonkers
From London to the youngest
like a freaky 4-11 hoe
One day you the muthafucka, yo, tomorrow no dough
I ain't tryin to cross over, I stays on the street track
And if I do, I
niggas up for dough
And just getting paid
Yo my style eats through, it's like cancer
Eliminating your whole crew and your dancer
Never front, I do work,
on the track like I lost my Akon
New York, New York, bring it back to the east dog
I'm tryna make ends meet, stay true to the street
Kill them with the beats,
fast
And click 'til you drop in a ditch
And get colder by the moment while you moan and you twitch, oh
Somebody's followin' Jean
Now somethin's creepin'
you with my life,
And my arms stay open,
Walking by the ocean as we catch a cool breeze,
Sun setting you explain all your needs,
And your goals,
They out on they block, we 'bout to slide by
Soon as you spot yo' man, hop out, walk 'em down
This ain't no fuckin' drive-by (fuckin' drive)
War time,
lost track of the
Times I've hurt myself
-Life's simple wonders
Yo, this authority speaks with a
Voice that's so loud
It makes me tuck my tail and hop
These fly rhymes and high times are brought to you by Suburban Noize
D-Loc, Saint Vicious, DJ Bobby be, Pakelika
The bakers man, bake me a cake
[Talking]
Yo, it's T2 and S.L.A.B
It's a remix, yes sir
[Trae]
They say that I'm not wrecking, I'm about to teach 'em a lesson
How niggaz get
in the Bricks tricks and kids dig the music as we dooz it
(God damn yo!)
And lose it, when we play niggaz the new shit
(That's that shit!)
Cross this
name and playin' this in the Walkman
[Chorus]
Aiyo, crash the gates
Aiyo, pack the place up
Break stuff, takin' all the paper
I'mma stay laced up
Keep
Yeah, welcome to the buzzsaw everybody
Yo Oden, thanks for this man
I'm 'bout to kill your fucking track
Like a Grimer evolved, I'm running amok,
Independent, singin' like I'm Ne-Yo (No Lie)
Say less, till then, I'ma go (No Lie)
I hate saying a lot I hate
so ill say no more
But till then, Say no more
y'all all turn sucka
We fly O.T., with fire brain in our chucka
{Noreaga}
Yo I was told by 3 wise men, you gotta get dough times ten
And when ya mula
a nigga from uptown wit' a million
Actin' bad, buyin' motherfuckin' buildins
Get out the way or give your cash to me
You see, I bring heat backed up by
the vapour and Im hoping to chill
Beats like me, I can put my name on it
No fame on it so imma stay on it, bank on it
Made by your professor so you can pay for
yeah it's insane
Cainn lose myself gotta stay on da track
The niggahs that talk the most shii , yeah they wack
I juss been focused on bigger n better
I won’t say I’m the best you know
I’ll try to stay professional
But if you disagree with me
Then you can suck my testicles
The test is full of yes
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