Belly of the Beast

Dangerous, dangerous These niggas can't hang with us hang with us Nigga we dangerous, dangerous My nigga we I swear all my life I been around crips and bloods Crips and slugs, the trigger happiest thugs Claiming the slums, and all the hoods that they from Too much of the some, got it twisted up blinded in a rat race Cash straight, the fake kill jake, the snakes too late My eyes dilate, and I could tell them how he strafe Coming at me sideways, get straighten up Don't deflate it up gimmie the bucks my cash wrinkling up Looking back in the days, amazed Cause the lab rat done made it out the maze Still feel caged, enraged though Used the underground railroad like a runaway slave Broke off the chains still runway fresh Got you on that mental plane with my project jet I'm two steps above that nimbus cloud My limit is low, when I'm smoking on that loud Focus in the now, when the lotus is around It's the Brooklyn sound, a pro found, Biggie would be proud about But I don't need a vet to even shop me out Punchlines pack a Pacquiao they can't box me out Big up big up, it's a stick up stick up Niggas hit a nigga quick if he hiccup hiccup Big up big up, it's a stick up stick up Niggas hit a nigga quick if he hiccup hiccup Tell me what them know bout the Badmon named Jozif Women come around, I look em down like they don't know shit Word around the time is that they got the match explode it I'm a child of the city Son of the streets And it's just a pity They not tough like we And things not look pretty When we got to eat Things get much deeper Deeper and deeper And I survive, thank the father Feel like I was raised by [?] Had to keep calm and hold ma corner Cause a stray gun shot if you cross the border Pro Era teach them the pro's and con's Of living in a city with a thousand dons A thousand ghetto youts with a thousand guns Cooler tequila with frozen lungs But praise rastafari we wheel and come again Know a Nyabinghi [?] Lightning and thunder are the [?] Pro Era teach them the pro's and con's Original Chronixx and Joe Badmon No King Selassie, we have the golden crown Get ready for the shift we are the chosen ones I'm a child of the city Son of the streets And it's just a pity They not tough like we And things not look pretty When we got to eat Things get much deeper