 |
| (featuring Keith Murray) [Erick Sermon] Yeah Something has to be said Uh Somebody tell me something Whats up? [Parrish Smith] That it's on right now and we about to let off And that the industry is sleepin and HipHop is soft EPMD is the boss like Rick Ross We don't knock or ring or else we kick down the door with force Bust you down, leave a sign on you that say you lost Game over, no more quaters, plus the machine is broke Money don't really remember nothing, all he has seen is smoke No witness, no statement, no case Incorporate you eat cheese, then you get a raise Rubbed out return to the earth Six feet deep in the dirt With the snakes and maggots cause you got murked [Erick Sermon] Yeah, and they keep telling me that You're only as good as your last record And if I was to do something now they wouldn't second Hardcore respect it and that is enough You got more props then call your bluff Same thing happend to Marry and Mariah They both came back with fire, fuck retiring I got belts around my waist You keep holding your pants up Homeboy male up! That's your opinion, cause you're not feeling it How you know they're hot the fans not hearing it The record pins steering it in one direction You, there is some music in the real niggas section [Parrish Smith] That EPMD is a corporation it's not its the group And that they always stack paper so put up your loot Ghetto celebs that's why niggaz salute Orange juice and grey goose We dramatic backwards now that P is loose Me and E is back for the kill, no troops That's why we spit the real in the vocal booth [Erick Sermon] Yeah so called gangster and you ain't even hard So called boxer and you ain't even sport When them ribber hit you got punked in the yard You said you got shot and you ain't even scarred But they belive this and you keep betraying them You are a bitch and I'm not the only one saying it [Keith Murray] Now he from the BX but he really soft And he from BK but his guns don't go off He from cop killer Queens but he still getting robbed And he from money making but he ain't on his job Now he from LA but he's scared to bang And he from Texas but he will do the damn thing He'd stay in VA but he is scared of the streets And he's from Chi-a but he's sweet as a peach I can tell you 'bout the dope fiends and all of that But I let them tell it 'cause they sell their moms crack And that ain't gangsta that is wanksta Went to jail and the homo shanked ya Don't get caught between my city and the moon You'll be screaming at night, you loose your life at me to doom I really hung with BIG, squared off with Pac Shook hands in the House of Blues before the shit popped First fought niggaz in the industry and kept it cool You ain't see me running my mouth in no interviews And you fools on them DVD's waving tools No that ain't something that a gangsta do |
Videos
|
Add
All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics provided for educational purposes only.
Copyright © 2007-2009 LyricWorld.com, LoiNhac.com
© 2009 lyricworld.com, loinhac.com are two of a family of companies in the LmVN Group.