Lyrics:
Ford
And I ain't thugging, they clapping at me, a encore
Got a dark heart, bright mind, make women crazy
I give her D, I throw up two, I call that shit
Yea I heard the shit you dropping shit Rudy poo
Just poured me a 4 you know a 2 and 2
If I catch you down bad nigga what you would do
My bitch from
at who I am now, I came from the dirt
Hitman hitman
I don't wanna go back to the streets
Hitman hitman
I don't know what you wanted from me
Hitman hitman
on get 'em up)
(Come on get 'em up)
(Come on get 'em up)
[Chorus: x 2]
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Yeah)
I get a feeling of peace
From a low so high
before we die like the last train leaving
[Talib Kweli]
Breathing in deep city breaths, sitting on shitty steps
We stoop to new lows, hell froze
for me to lose it
Coming out the park in the dark when we ride
It's about time to drop some heat, two eleven run the street
No mercy for the haters
York, big city of dreams
And everything in New York ain't always what it seems
You might get fooled if you come from outta town
But I'm down by law,
homies!)
We ain't even shcared when his body hit the flo' (h'yeah! Dead homies!)
Turnin' up the heat 'til a nigga gettin' shmoked - Crusty!
I won't even
ranger
Everyone watched as he climbed from his horse and walked by
Every eye dropped to the gun hanging low on his side
The silence was broken, the ranger
that'll mix you
Skip through
Warm-it-up Chris, missed you
Been cross'n shit
That's a UTEP 2-step
Trill Cosby boolin' in a
2-Stack crew neck
She spit
cut out
I took from the ghetto what I could take
But you can't take my P.O with the metal flake
I'm a knucklehead buzzin' off of alcohol
Messing up
It's cold but it's not
It's twice as deep
Fuck real
It's 2 o'clock, it's about to hit the street
Nigga, scuff me nigga
So I knock off this ride
Fight
Crack backs heavy on the cash all night
At the drug site we hung tight
Three o'clock in the night ounces of coke dirty kicks
Money gets low in
your whole street, you ain't no motherfuckin' O.G.
'Cause O.G. means, means you a original gangsta
Understand pure motherfuckin' man
Ain't no police
(Yeah) (Uhh)
On my way up I fell down (I did)
When I was low you were no where around (Damn)
Burnt a bridge thought I'd drown (Sike)
Tables turned
up a long time
R.O.S.C.O.E. I done blew up like a landmine
And I'm winnin by a land slide
[Chorus]
I got my own steps
I got my own style
[repeat 4x]
of crooks, they hunt for the weak
Niggas comin' home tryin' to hit 'em a lick
Wanna bounce from a quarter ounce up to a brick
Them old side niggas, them
[RZA]
Fucking up the mike be a hobby!
Crab motherfuckers try to step up to rob me
Bitch you must be stupid, slob the knob Z
B-O-B-B-Y D-I-G-I-T-A-L, Bobby
at him hidin'
Don Ke' heart of the south, slab ridin'
H-O-U-S-T-O-N, T-E-X-A-S
We go get it and come back with it until we take our last breath
From
her mouth Young Z from the east, the king of the south
Low key from the streets, I'm bringing the clout Watch me, close seat, I'm fishing them out
I
thang
Yeah I get money and I let my nuts hang
Pull up to curb, cut it to the left
My rims sitting tall 'til I dim the knee steps
I just see what I want,
From one corner to another, uh-huh
Some got hopes and dreams
We got ways and means
The supreme dream team always up with the schemes
From hubcaps
Niggas know we popped up twice, ain't tripping
Playa points given, Grand Papi still sipping
Now as we flipping through these H-Town streets, two deep
a match to it ima burn it down
Then build it back from the Flo
Now u wan leech out like u held me down
But u wunt around we was broke
Member we went half
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