Lyrics:
I'm all wrapped up in shackles
I'm trying to break free
I'm my own worst enemy, me
They'll never let me by though, I'm always tryna beat
Beat my
test
Got DJ Scott LaRock by my side, not in back of me
'Cause we make up the Boogie Down Productions crew faculty
Get it right, or train yourself not
back to the T house
Feds on Waze so man had to re route
But I just wanna drop my parcel off
Collect my Prof
And how many times have I beat out
Dark by
(Mr.Cheeks)
Yo we come through like balls, see us niggas takin two pulls and pass
Nigga watch your back once you talk out your ass
I pack a .380 in
a threat, yeah, we call him Ty
This shit so crazy, man
Beat got me sick like it's Monkeypox
I'm rich like Roddy no Box
The queen is dead, we in a hot box
That
explode
Watch your back move with the flow
Y A M on the beat but you know
Keeping it real live by the code
Anything fake you niggas can hold
Everything that
crews stress, fully on a quest
To be recognised, put up on a level next to me
And the Wise unified our lives, we bless the beat
We yet to see competitors
North Shore, getting tatted by Tai
Turtle Bay at the beach enjoying climatical vibes
RAW extendo papers that look like a javelin fly
Two indicas so they
dissin' a
Unofficial that smoke Woolie Thai
I dropped out of Cooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie
Jungle survivor, fuck who's the live-r
My
when I seen the nigga granny
And I moved on, I played by a set of rules
Win or lose, I don't pick and choose
Nigga in that box, I'm a stick and move
Fuck
We are here to tell the world just who we are
Shocking female (MC's), shocking female (MC's) (Repeat 2x)
Verse 1: Phife
No need for, introductions,
Jumping into the Avensis
Drawn by the call of nature, again
Something that you've got to do
Monday, mundane, mundane
Gotta get away from daily life
your mouth 'fore I slap you
Make you meet the d*vil
My tech heavy metal
Patek empty bezel
I check every box beat you till you're seeing double
Reverse
dreams
Big things
Foreign skies I want to see!
I remember listening, to Snoop Dogg smoke two blunts, cornfield with the crew out
I never knew what the news
the Oakland A's
I'm back to back with God, shaking the fucking universe
This is an army of two
Beat his ass and sent him into an improvement cycle
He look
your address, I'll swing by
Call up your friends, I'll get your whole fuckin' crew high
Say bye, bye, bye to the wack
And let it be known kid rock
your flesh hold
Thirty-two, or whatever the tech holes
My dirty crew rather hawk you to death rather than talk you to death
'Cause listenin' is like
beat's so crazy
Punks like you don't phase me
Big man, muscle in the window
Kickin' live in a four door Benzo
Ripped, with muscles I'm furious
Emcees
fifty, one sixty-nine
I got it, you want a box of condoms? What kind?
That's two quarters, two quarter waters
The New York Times
You need a bag for
yeah
It's been six days
Jay been led astray, again
Man these hoes I'll never give another ounce I can't swim
Inside no acidic box of STD's and toxins
choose yo' wars
Or be like me muthafucka and do it with two guns
[Chorus: x3]
Check my war wounds (uggggh)
My war wounds (ugggh)
Every soldier got
roughnecks
Give two of these to Flex, tell him it's real rap like Ghost
Had to beat niggas with toast
Clubs V.I. clientele we lay it down flat
Poot out
roughnecks
Give two of these to Flex, tell him it's real rap like Ghost
Had to beat niggas with toast
Clubs V.I. clientele we lay it down flat
Poot out
Ayy
You know its Lor Tri nigga yeah ayy
Blow on who lor nigga imma drift off
Slammin on the box like a young Nigga chris paul
1 2 3 Do the dash then
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