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[Created in LyricsEditor] |
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[Available on Mac App Store] |
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*beat drops&multiple gunshots* |
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"And you will know my name is the lord." (Samuel L. Jackson) |
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(Big L)Shyheim, yeah |
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Corleone |
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Uh-huh, check it out |
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Y'all niggas be walkin the streets, iced out |
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Not knowing the wolves'll put the price out |
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To get you stuck and punch ya lights out |
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Or catch ya car in the night and snatch ya wife out |
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And beat the hoe up if you don't give the dough up |
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You got me pissed off, frontin and ya whole clique soft |
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If ya had ya Roly on, I might cut ya wrist off |
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Then lick off, and slide ya bitch off, punk |
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I hope ya ready for the kick-off |
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Ya flankin niggas and I'm gettin rich off |
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I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack |
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Now I wanna go plat', can I get a soul clap |
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It ain't no part a time out, once I climb out |
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The garbage can, wit 2 nines out, and blow ya spine out |
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Oh I got you cats by a long-shot, every song hot |
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1-3-9 and Lennox is a strong block |
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I left enough a y'all stinkin |
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What the fuck was y'all thinkin? |
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My shit's tight, nigga, I spit right. Yo, what? |
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(Shy)Young outlaw, the state wanna get rid a me |
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I'll probably die from the death penalty |
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Y'all analog, Shyheim I keep it digity |
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I'm not pussy so I don't need security |
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Like Big L, I'm MVP on the street |
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I did wet more people than the pool and the beach |
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So be easy, or I'll expose you like shock TV |
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O.G., that's why they put me in a movie |
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Don't screw me, cuz if I punch you in ya face |
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You'll probably try and sue me, |
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And take me to Judge Judy |
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Look me in my eyes cuz ya handshake don't fool thee |
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Stapleton Staten Islander, |
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the name's marked on the calender |
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Ain't no screwin off a silencer, uh-uh |
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*gunshots* |
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"And I will strike down upon thee with |
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great vengeance and furious anger on those |
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who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. |
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And you will know my name is the lord. " |
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(Big L)If you got somethin to say, then cough it out |
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Cuz niggas be wantin beef |
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But when you pull out the heat |
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They ready to talk it out |
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What is there to talk about? |
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You was just frontin, now it ain't nuttin |
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Ain't that somethin? I should start bustin anyway |
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And put one a you punks in the ground |
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Y'all niggas be killin me with y'all faces frown |
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Jumpin around like you scarin us, not even |
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Cuz me and Shy' gon' be some thugs |
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Till we stop breathin, "My name is the lord..." |
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(Shy)Niggas be actin like they hoodlums |
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Until they get shot up or locked up |
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Now they Bloods and Muslims |
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In the Wu, benz bang em like a Benz, |
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touch kid nuttin thin, put his ear to his chin |
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I gotta win and beat this game of dyin rich and old |
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Cuz these playa-hatin niggas wanna block my gold |
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It's untold like the truth, they thirsty for my juice |
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But when I let loose, have them jumpin out they boots |