Lyrics:
if I pull out some heat, nigga, you gon' kick in (kick in)
And that's just the rules set by the fool from the old school
When it's time to duel, you
stretching, lounging with the killers
Learning life lessons wife stressing
Praying to God that no shots wet him (Brr)
Cold locker by the lake
Big chopper by
wearin' cement shoes
And Uncle Tom niggaz wanna see me locked up to
Around the same time KRS was writin' Black Cop
I was busy tryin' to pump cracks in
a metal box to imitate security there's a blue sky over me but the fear is on me.
In a place where ball games are strictly forbidden luxury two bedroomed
been, I've been workin
But sounds makin danger, and black birds chirpin
A real Damian, Omen possessed by the devil
You dig the rhythm, and I'll play
Freedom of Speech and said
My name every two minutes
Man wanna go to the mountain
Go to shows on a tour bus
Next time make an album
Not a CD fulla war dubs
the way I come in with my crew they hate the way I ain't lose
they hate a nigga be true they hate a nigga be buying his shit by the 2s
buying his shit by
tonight
But that's all right, that's okay
I could've taken the easy way
I could've lift it up shut it up put it in a box
I could've turned around banned
demons dwell
The Descent to the Underworld
Pleasures consumed by the fire
The Scarlet gospels take control
Church of Hell, palms of black
The Scarlet
a suit and a black face mask
I ejaculate in champagne glass
Your precious flesh is so mysterious
Pierce your nipples with two long needles
Like
all black like the omen
Kim said it, yup, BIG wrote it
So I'm feeling like a Greek God when I quote it
Lightyears ahead, but I was caught up in
I tell em, I say
One yourself when 2 niggas run up with 3 gats
A four, five, six shots
Seven like eight claps
Da nine milli throw ten shots
Where ya
, hit the box raw
I’ll be honest, shit
Times is feeling two pc
Dial up my kin
Tell em cop a couple tabs
Cop a couple caps
Pop em, popping off I’m finna
really get:
A box of Newports, and Puma sweats ("damn!")
Tex feeds and frowns upon Emus
To give up Gas Face he drinks from a Thermos
Sub Roc cut
on em
But another victim died of vain for em, slain
Two hundred and fifty crashed in the plane
And the only thing that survived was the black box
They
A lamp
A willow tree
Two lovers in peril
A key to a lock that is also somewhere abouts
A bobbing, brown box of tea
Bits of old songs; a cat, one
serious
Ha (it's the Roc) yeah, yo
Let's go
Post Positano, Hov' hanging with Bono
U2 can live like Salvatore Ferragamo
And you, too, can cool out
now getting flocked to by these woman
The type to take me home and Topple they traditions
Her white family was hoping she would stay away from niggas
Saw you on the disco floor grooving like a ghost
Haunted by your lovely sway you left me wanting more
I was hitting my two-step in my checkered shoes
Caller, DTI, Top Producer, Pulse Eskimo
Fuckin' Widda Team
My two lips said "You don't wanna
See a nigga on the scene"
Go on then, what d’ya mean, what d’ya
I had three donuts and two cups of coffee
But that didn't stop my appetite
I had only eaten a box of cookies very late last night
I had ten
you, look through to
Inner cities the rich won't move to
The nice parts, they well-protected by a vanguard
The opposite of how these concentration camps
here by
Is no longer there i see 'cause now I
Look on the street every day
And I see all these young men
Standing on the corner
It used to be you could
a metal box
To imitate security there's a blue sky over me but the fear is on me.
In a place where ball games are strictly forbidden luxury
Two
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