| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 2:56 | 
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| 2. |
| 3:44 | 
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- Bring `Em Out Dead by Onyx -
[Intro: Sticky Fingaz] Where my wolves at? Yeah Put your hoodies on, keep your face down low Anything shining, take that shit Give a fuck, we in the bar Niggas, bitches, let's go! [Fredro Starr] Aiyyo, set it off, let it off, get it off Get this shit wild like thugs from up north Fights in the crowd, the shots'll jump off Body's on the floor, blood on the dance floor Get stuck at the bar, get robbed at the door Dropped off at the coat tag door, take it off Get down, face down to the ground Kill 'em for their doe like Po from uptown Cut your finger off, send it to your moms house Never testify no matter how it goes down When I bark shots you niggas'll duck down Run up on your block, you niggas get shut down Give it up, you don't want to try to resist Before I hit you off, you don't wanna die for this Un-unh, so we gon load our guns to this Black mask, face down, motherfuckers gettin robbed to this [Chorus 2x] Take 'em out, bring 'em out dead Take 'em out, bring 'em out dead Take 'em out, bring 'em out dead One gun, two gun, three to the head [Sonsee] Shots'll spill, niggas think it's not for real Make your body disappear like Copperfield At the funeral's, don't waste no doctor bills A lot of niggas ain't kickin shit I can feel We gettin it down real big, that's what we doin Give 'em the most raw, that's what we doin The game don't understand, the world don't understand These niggas is gun in hand, you die for these grand Shot's from the magnum, killin the gats, smack 'em You got it back, stab ya, with your own dagger My sons take your 6, rope you in the closet (Hot one's!) The one's that probably even pump the cops up We got 'em strung with the drugs that we dealing Or peeling, some loud niggas, thugs can feel us And my Brooklyn killers, and my project niggas And my brother's locked down in the jails can feel it [Chorus] [Sticky Fingaz] If I don't eat, fuck that everybody starve Takin your plate like it's food time in Oz Motherfucker, I kidnap all your kids Before I had a record deal, what you thought I did? Last job I had I was punching a clock Last nigga that I tied up was up at Koch I ain't even need a mask, I ain't bust one shot Made 'em wire me my money right there in the spot That's a Coneay watch, nigga take that off That's a iced out cross, boy take that off Know what'd happen to your daughter if I don't make that call? Better take me to the bank and get your face plucked off Hottest nigga in the club cause I got the heat So run boy, run boy, one gun box with me? So step up young'n, show me you gon do We got big guns nigga that go "boom boom boom!" [Chorus 4x] |
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| 3. |
| 4:37 |
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- Slam Harder by Onyx -
Who'da thought we'd need ya? (Who'da thought we'd need ya?) Back there where we need ya? (Back there where we need ya?) Yeah we tease him a lot, cause we got him on the spot Welcome back.. welcome back, welcome back, welcome back? [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Fredro Starr] Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder! Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder! [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Fredro Starr] Aiyyo we back in the e-say The game is over, it's a rap It's a ree-zay, straight like dat It's a good look, we put, hardcore on the map Ten years to be exact, still throwin up gats See a thug on the TV, and chicks dig that But we rap for them streets where them thugs play at So "Bacdafucup," comin' through, comin through, get ya "SLAM" on Y'all the hardest niggas in rap, ya dead-wrong Y'all the niggas sittin on 20's with no gas money Y'all niggas think you shinin?like Puff, who got money? Like you really pop shots in the club You only pop bottles of bub' Y'all ain't got no real street love To the death, to the ghetto, my kids with heavy metal On the everyday hustle, never ready to settle, uh Back together, with the; classic terror Onyx; back forever, bustin', gats together, WHAT! [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Fredro Starr] Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder! Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder! [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Sonsee] Bigger than the streets' anthems, you stealin' the flow Rappin' other people's money and we takin' ya dough My killas the grimiest, we keep it the gulliest We leave you the bloodiest, cause we be the hungriest Hear that? Hunger pains That's the things that'll numb your brain, run ya change It's not a threat, it's a promise I even got my St. Louis niggas slammin?haters offa Onyx [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Fredro Starr] Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder! Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder ! [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Sticky Fingaz] You wanna know the truth? Take a look in my eye I'm like B.I.G.'s first album, I'm "Ready to Die" It's Sticky Fingaz, if you didn't already know who I am The minute I reached out and touched the whole hood with no hands Cause in the streets I live through it, it's more than music Whatever I'm spittin' on, I put my life into it Got a reputation on the streets of keepin' it rough There's just too many of us, you get rushed, you get bust - what! Big trucks, chrome rims spinnin' The mad faced niggas got money so now we grinnin' Pull your sticks out, we the group you listen to, kid! Niggas told me my music helped em' through they bid I'm the voice of the ghetto, the heart of New York A fiend will give his last hit, just to hear me talk Niggas paid for their mistakes, death is the price That's right motherfucka, Onyx for life! [Onyx] What! What! What! What! Yeah!-Yeah (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (What!) Yeah!-Yeah! (C'mon) [Fredro Starr] Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) Slam Harder! Aiyyo, who slam harder? Onyx, or Vince Carter? (ONYX!) All my thugs gettin dollars (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) All my ladies just holla (Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!) |
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| 4. |
| 4:01 |
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feat. Havoc (Mobb Deep)
[talking] Yeah nigga... haha yeah (South Suicide Queens) That's right... uh uh, Q.U. nigga (yea yea) Shit like that, knowhamsayin put these drinks up yaheard? - let's do this right, what yo [Fredro Starr] Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block For my one stop niggaz that be huggin the spot Sittin on crates, gettin loaded, get that cake Dodgin drinks, spit and hafta cover they face Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side See no games, with real niggaz from other hoods Car titles get lost, some niggaz get jooked But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam Holdin the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof To them slick dudes, hot and they workin the phone booth Cuz Lord knows I'm gonna reload and bust back Incredible gats, indicted for a federal rap They ain't duck low enough, shots shredded they hat Murdered and gone, nigga it's a medical fact [Hook: Havoc] - 2X Hold up, this is for my gangsta team and my dime little mamis rockin Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin bent, goin cra-zay! [Sonsee] Hold up, this is for my chicks in the spot All my bus stop bitches that be pushin them drops Playin the gate, get it ma, get those papes Hustle that face, seven G's below ya waist Project chick, dippin whips, cruisin the strip Gettin money for tuition, go to school and she strip Kill in the club, when niggaz dicks get hard Murda mami set you up and niggaz bricks get robbed Help her soul if a chick try to set my team I'm tying her up, rep till the death of Queens All my staircase niggaz keep flippin the jun's All my outta state niggaz keep gettin them ones Guns in the air, hit you with invisible glocks that mean you never see it comin nigga, 52 shots I'm takin ya block nigga, if you like it or not You either roll or get rushed (blaow bloaw!) I guess not [Hook: Havoc] - 2X [Sticky Fingaz] Sticky Fingaz, the nigga that be stickin them spots For all my gun-cock niggaz that be bustin off shots Lay in the straight, black mask raidin ya gate Show me ya safe before I put two in ya face Dirt on my kicks, hoodies all lookin for whips Catch a rat nigga, leave his Bentley sittin on bricks Bloody ice-pick fights in the yard Ten times outta ten, step to me and ya life get scarred Shoot-outs in broad daylight, bustin at feds Dirty cops with a ki of coke, bring 'em out dead For my jail niggaz, stashin bangers deep in they cots For my grimy niggaz, hidin under cars from cops Empty the glock, hitchu with disposable gats Bust you, wipe it off, throw it away, it's a rap What nigga? I see you back in the hood scrap Turn ya Benz to a coffin nigga, straight like that [Hook: Havoc] - 2X Hold up... 'South Suicide Queens' 'Enjoy!' 'South Suicide Queens' 'Enjoy!' |
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| 5. |
| 4:06 |
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[Female]
Aiyo, what the fuck? Y'all thought this was a game? Y'all better "back the fuck up/bacdafucup" Onyx is coming through They the ones that started that ol' wild, thugged out grimey, go hard, gully, get your ass beat on and off stage shit Nigga what? [Chorus: Sticky] It's the O-N-Y-X Where my niggas? Get rowdy, throw up your techs You wanna bang then bang, nigga throw your set Onyx reppin' for the hood, every project That's right it's the O-N-Y-X Where my niggas? Get rowdy, throw up your techs You wanna bang then bang, nigga throw your set Onyx reppin' for the hood, every project [Fredro] You wanna bang nigga bang, fucking bang your set Wanna play gun rap, I'll arrange ya death My tech disconnect Arms, legs, necks from chest Shots split you Rip through tissue Raps most dangerous, ravenous I'll leave the booth covered with remains of shit Put the four-five blitz on the dot six range Ice your frame and hang ya banger by his chain This is Crip talk, Blood New York Blow ya brains in your hand, nigga hold that thought From outta the dark Niggas get money from gat dealin' Dead rappers body get found in back of buildings We started this shit We the heart of this shit Onyx motherfucker, hard as it get We at war so wha-what Get your arms up Nigga front, get your whole projects barked up Chorus [Sticky] I got a million niggas, cockin nines You don't know us kid, you better hide your shine And if you see a nigga with jewels on his neck Stick em up, Stick em up, Stick em up Back on the scene, gun with the beam All you see is white, turn you red for the green Niggas better move, Onyx coming through Every track I'm on I turn black and blue I can't, come from the head, I come from the heart I shit hip-hop, nigga wipe my ass with the source Ain't no nigga dead or alive fuckin with this Need a second opinion? Ask your bitch Walk through NYC to CPT We 'bout blow up again like WTC I changed the Benz sign to a crucifix Onyx pull up with three 6's like six, six, six Chorus [Sonsee] BLAOW! Techs up cause we bust rowd' Shoot through your door Watch bodies lift off the floor Runnin' up the steps with a 100 shots gunnin' Murder scene left so gross you can't stomach My team built strong like steal bars in prison twenty five to life, my brothers in hell biddin' We bang on the charts, send flames to the top Niggas move on your spot, take blocks Bang to this I blaze shit like an arsonist It sprays the mist, to stack up your carcasses What bitch nigga you get blast apart Reppin O-P-M, till the casket drop Chorus x3 |
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| 6. |
| 4:14 |
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[Fredro Starr]
You my wife with no papers, my gangsta bitch First time I got caught you tried to shank a bitch You scared to get down, she a bust all rounds Smoke a Newport, cut me half, bust me down Catch me lookin at another chick she curse me out Dead serious, but at times she act silly Jump out the truck at the light to get the philly Rolling it up, chasing down the ice cream truck I waited half-an-hour for your hair to get braided She leaving dirty messages on 3-way pagers Told her how to roll, she low and spit razors She hit triple six first time out in Vegas Never got shook, when feds knocked down the door She hid the coke, a scared chick would've flushed it all And we can live it up, eat lots of shrimp Or get grimey with a quarter bag of potato chips [Chorus: Platinum Plus] Cause she's straight gangstaaaaa-aaaaa-aaaaa-aaaaa Gangstaaaaa Cause she's straight gangstaaaaa-aaaaa-aaaaa-aaaaa Gangstaaaaa [Sonsee] I need a down chick that wouldn't mind loading my clips And wouldn't blow her mind if I showed her a brick In and out of the grind with the focus of chips Blowing one time with her controlling the whip Wait up for me and make sure she doubled the flip She a sophisticated thug bitch that move her hips She catch you for her set up you when you move your shit Or most of the time, she throw the cold shoulder to guys Smoke in the ride, hoodie low over her eyes She know she a dime, baby nine shot to her thighs Gotta be live, help me count doe in the five And when I'm gone for weeks, turn them OT moves She don't trip, she's the gangsta she knows the rules Giving me hell is not hard, it's something to lose God for bid I slip up and land in jail My murder mami put the house up to make the bail [Chorus] [Sticky Fingaz] Behind a real nigga there's a real bitch, she lied to me See, my bitch walked right beside of me I've been in situations and seen her ride for me She licked my gun wounds, even did my time with me Ain't nothing she can't have, I gave that girl ery'thing Tatooed her name on fingers for wedding rings Are you that chick, do you rep Sticky? We split it down the middle, everything 40-60 Are you that chick for rich or poor? The only one I eat out the only one I hit raw Keep you, covered in ice til you start shivering The Baby Phat Gucched up out with pink Timbalands Me and her, we like Bonnie and Clyde I hold the heat and the money, she drive the ride She make other bitch's mad cause she more bitch than they ever been It's beautiful and intelligent, talented, droppin heroin [Chorus] [Outro: Platinum Plus] She build with me, she kill for me With blood, shed tears, you still with me She real with me, smoke fry with me Look the judge in the eye, straight lie for me Count bills with me, you'll kill for me With the blood, shed tears, she still with me Cause she build with me, she kill for me Look the judge in the eye, straight lie for me |
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| 7. |
| 3:38 |
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| 8. |
| 4:58 |
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| 9. |
| 3:14 |
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| 10. |
| 3:29 |
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Onyx - Onyx is back
Yeah, aha, yah Chorus: Onyx is back, and they can never, ever, ever be wack (4x) [Fredro Starr] Yo America is under attack, yo Onyx is back Took a team out the hood, the whole crew got phat Allot of hate cos I took Hollywood on my back Keep it crully, grimy, no positive rap You can tell by the way I got out the projects You still here, your thuggin with the best Don't worry if I got nines I blast text You should worry if ya got shine I snatch next War for real you don't want war for real If its real make ya timps up step up and feel Cos real killas do real things, but not you You americe nigga who wanna play nigga? Take a stray nigga, get out ma way nigga The ballheads back nobody wurse then them Im a madface nigga in a worstagrim Im a maceface nigga im n a ?? ?? Chorus [Sonee] Who that, sonee, hell yeah! Bangin Brooklyn to Brussels to bell air Shortys poppin their brands hoppin out cars, got rappers nervous, scared of dropping their bars take ya though, break you, break ya ho nigga aint a greater flow I make ya new, Money better play it low Take it slow, Make the foo Keep ya face aint a moo Im like mixin liquor Im bound to come up on niggaz And highjack the bank abduct ya ditches Cant fly, got a nice plan tuck to fit ya I'll be lost a fare kid paid bucks to bitch ya So, no, wer stopping wer trempin yo scene Im mixin, yellow with blue, I gotta get green Either yo with us, or not, not in between You will show us the money when I show you the bean Chorus [Sticky Fingaz] Well it's the S-T crocked I-C-K-Y Got ma ?? ?? doin for sticks back in B, K and Y Im livin all in 5 barrels, so im rappin wild The thuggest thug in the club, who else plays high? Been in the game for years, it made me a criminal Your small time, ma rims is just as big as you Iv never had a 9 to 5, I had a 9 that hit people that got off there 5 From thosele shiny things, that cut trough glass Don't even speak to me, this is about sex and cash I like ma cars, girls and clothes only for ma models I beat you between yo head with thousand dollar arms bottle Cant even with ice, I carry to much heat The combination always leaves somebody wetting the street Im start sellin hope trough ma arms of weed Cos im broke only got threehundred gram on the bank We back, bringing you that filth from filth Let me stop talking before I criminate myself Chorus Made by ⓒhance |
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| 11. |
| 5:31 |
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[Intro: Fredro Starr]
Just to let you know this is recorded 9/11/2001 The day the World Trade Center blows up Shit is real, son Shit hit home, kid, word up Hope you can feel this [Chorus] Hope you can feel me (Hope you can feel me) So much pain insii-ii-iide Hope you can hear me I'm crying through my heart [Fredro Starr] When I first heard the track it made me cry Brought tears to my eyes and I don't even know why My life ain't nothing but anger and pain Tatoos on the back of my arm should explain Blood, sweat and tears, ten years in the game So many times all alone with the gat to my brain It's me against the world nigga, I feel the same I'm "Ready to Die" too Big, I feel the same I'm America's nightmare - young, black and rich Man, I'm paranoid, make me wanna clap my bitch A hundred miles an hour, wanna rap my whip Asking God "Shit, where we going after this?" I'ma thug, a thug til heart be stop Til they pick me off the street nigga, murdered a shot My wars, my words, the only thing that I got And I live by the gun and I die by the glock 16 shots, fuck that I'm takin them all I'd rather die on my feet then live and crawl My gun got powers like the 48 Lords The "Ghetto Superstar" die see my face on the wall, and don't forget me [Chorus] [Sonsee] Growing up in Brooklyn, times was rough cuz... Poor as we was it couldn't get no tougher On my ave. most of us was not blood But as kids we shared that block love But that faded, when my brother's got arrested They thugged on the block to hard, we was ejected To the creator - was it you that made moms pick Queens? So her baby son could race the world, when he created things? Why her elders always heard the sounds of sirens? Plus they ignored the divine guidance Why was the time I was born 9/16? Turn it upside down it's the same thing Why do I have a M-16, and the 9? Will I have to go out, blazing one at a time? When you took moms baby carriage, in the early stage Was he too ill for this world, and you made a mistake? Did he come back ask me, to do something great? To keep the fam strong and straight, help my brother's escape? And have baby sis and us, living on an estate Do it big, or die trying - is that my fate? [Chorus] [Sticky Fingaz] Who really cares, what the world think about me? If I die right now, is you coming with me? When I'm broke, who the hell got money for me? Can't even trust half the team running with me I only know three people that'd kill for me Break the sixth commandment, make blood spill for me Life and death - the only thing that's real for me Cuz I was born into the world with a guilty plea Now shit hit the fan, is you ridin with me? When the whole world watching, all eyes on me Swear on a stack of Bibles, testify for me Look the judge dead in the face and lie for me If I go to prison, who gon do my time for me? Start the revolution, get the chair, fry with me Go out in a blaze of glory, guns to the sky with me I'm all alone in this world, all I got is me [Chorus 3x] Hope you can feel me... |
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| 12. |
| 4:13 |
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