Lyrics:
take you back to The Land, you know where the heart of it all.
In 1993, when we was up out the scene.
The fellas with hell of a harmony with the flow
and out of uniform
As a matter of fact, I was in a bar, drunk
Now, boys, our job is this
Shootin at the top you can wipe me down for residue
Peakin in your speakers now I'm lookin for a better view
Made another track just to race further
They must've forgot I'm an artist
This ain't spoken word or poetry
Still going back to back they knows it's me
Go from track to track reload the beat
to the bread, by a any means
He keep on doing dumb shit like it's a horror movie scene
This was something light
You know what I'm saying
Not like my proudest
Our music makin' the bam
New Gen rappers are wack
But this ain't a diss track
We keepin' it real and no gags
Our style's chill, yet wild
I'm required
made it to dis stage
We upset n erase sound boys
Off the face of the scene coz dey disgrace
Nu badder come ina dis place
Wid ya bad vibes
Na u just waste
what I can sorting out yeah
She is balling out, bro
You do not be in my shoe, Bro
This street cat
Ah, man!
Ah they are jarring fam
I don't know if I want
place?
Can I spread my art?
We just rolling in the wagon
Boy we guided by the light
We just in it for the ride
We ain't looking for a fight
Got my
Preme on the track, Dot with the pen
Watch out, ‘cause them boys at it again
So come on a-Dot rhyming, Preme quantizing
Fuck boys hate ‘cause they stars’
ya
Comin at ya in 3d
Ha-ha-ha
?? funkier than that, boy
Check it out
Kick it again
My tongue is spinnin
I follow with Allah and the Father be stoppin
Eastsidaz, and ya boy Big Tig
It's on and poppin' now, but we want always this big
Wanted a Benz and a Lotus
Whatever feels, sprayin' Raid on the roaches
I
the culture?"
"Why don't you bring it back to the Bentleys"
"That old school club, not the car"
By the way, can I hold your show?
Gottz pour out some
much time goes by, I'ma shoot my best shot and see if it goes through
Extend my arm, flick my wrist and release with perfect form
Then the predator goes
a steppa in my jeans
Living lavish in a trap house and the maids was just a fien
If I ever bring that strap out it’s gone turn into a scene
Put ya in
Michael is a liar and ain't sucking it up bitch!
Alright, we need to bring the beat back for this
Game is getting carried by people wanting the fame
So they
backbone got no spine now
Can't trust a single soul bitch I'm out my mind now
Ima spit the truth on every track ain't gotta lie bout it
I mean this wen I say
tough
What is it? This for them, suckas
Nigga, I came from a long line of playas
That ain't scared of nar' one of y'all, motherfuckers
I see these
they ain't rappin' like this
Nah they ain't rappin' like this
That mumble rap shit don't make sense
Man we come for your throat, yeah, we come for
like queen killer, rhapsody bohemian queen
But queen like white glove wave hand
And not wave hand like it's a heat wave
So you make a fan by waving
system
Number one boy
Always mind always ya business
Know that nothings ever finished
This shit aint a race
And there aint no winners
Unless u playin their
kill for, can count on my right hand
Beef handled like blades in knife factories
Cut coke, cut bum niggas like nutso
This ain't a movie clip
It's
deadly but calm
Word to my born, dead by dawn
Got the right to bear arm, ring the alarm!
Another sound boy dyin, hot irons
Slugs flyin out the hardware
down and sniff it
Shipping out like my ass is on a mission
I can't stick around, they don't understand my vision
Michael Jordan on the track, but I'm
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