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3:20 | 
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's
Headcrack, time to get the bread black! 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's Headcrack, time to get the bread! I rolled on every cee-lo corner that I know inside the city Kiddies, I got a fat mitt in my pocket lookin pretty So who wanna get paid on the block? A thousand's in the pock' Now go and grab your knots from the stash spot I shake them up and shake them up roll and I break em up Two ? and a pound-cake ("Yeah nigga, wake em up!") Keepin my fingers wrapped around the joint in case niggaz Start brawlin, because I see em FALLIN to the strong point One by one they losin down the line A fifty buck roll, a duck blows, old nigga pay me mine! ("Damn nigga!") I grab the dice, place your price, all you men are mice Riffin as I'm sippin on a Heineken and gettin nice I shake em up they papes are gettin dead, nigga sittin on a Beretta Said he wanna bet that I don't throw a better Now the game is surrounded by some money hungry bitches I put the kisses on my fists and rolled the triple sixes And once again it be the point, that I shoot That be puttin crazy loot, in the pocket of my army suit Now who wanna come throw another round I rolled a fo', a six, hold up, NOW I seen a fuckin pound Yeah you nigga know what the name of the game is I'm in yo' anus, cee-lo you know that shit that made a nigga famous Because I'm on the ding-dong, I can't go wrong Rollin for two hours long and STILL rollin strong 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's Headcrack, time to get the bread black! 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's [Nas] "Bettin Grants with the cee-lo champs" I make em sweat from beginners to the vets, I'm a threat Some niggaz double up on they fifty bets I gotta be nice to the dice, so I'm talkin to em I step back, gave a snap on the sidewalk and threw em Nigga went and put his foot in the way see, and tried to ace me Now I've got niggaz rollin to that bitch Tracy Yeah, but Tracy ain't so gentle, niggaz thought she was simple And loses with two deuces and a fuckin pimple ("A loser!") I crack another brew, sit back and watch what niggaz do Who threw that 2-U? I'm rollin the whole fuckin crew One by one niggaz come payin, that fell to the trey and Furlough inside the bait, that's what a nigga sayin Your luck is tough, I'm makin enough to buy a kilo Uh-oh, look out below, I think I rolled another cee-lo Pick up my crap, niggaz don't get back a DIME of that And keep my hand right by my waist where my nine is at One more test, and niggaz quittin, that's zero Broke, cryin broke, I'm doin backstrokes in cee-notes Crazy pockets are empty, what a god damn shame Niggaz you know the name of the game - word the fuck up! 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's Headcrack, time to get the bread black! 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's [Nas] "Bettin Grants with the cee-lo champs" 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's Headcrack, time to get the bread black! 4, 5, 6 is in the mix - I'm hittin them with trip's [Nas] "Bettin Grants with the cee-lo champs" |
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4:24 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
Back in the days was kinda crazy, kid. I started out with nothin'.
Wasn't livin' like Thanksgiving; I was turkey without the stuffin'. Sometimes I sweared to God that I was headed for the poorhouse. Say mama caught the drama; she would bleed tryin' to feed four mouths. Wasn't rockin' Girbauds; I barely had clothes, and when it snowed, And temperatures droppin' below zero, you know I froze. No CD's, a black and white TV, a seat is a rubber tire. With a hanger for the antenna, turned channels with some pliers. Had nothin' in my cabinet, but cans of Raid. I'm knockin' on my neighbor's door, To borrow a cup of sugar for my Kool-Aid. I wasn't freshly dipped, my gear was straight ripped; I'm trippin', 'Cause my winter coat got lost buttons, And zippers that wouldn't stay zipped. I never remembered Jack, the brother was straight fat cat. Not even a Big Mac black, I had Kid Castle topped with crackerjacks. Walkin' the streets, with the weak sneaks on my feet, And the freaks wouldn't speak, I never had lipstick on my cheek. So much for gettin' humped from the stunts, I always struck out. The one y'all likes is takin' hikes, if you can't pull a buck out. So now I gots to dedicate my next plate to all the homeboys and girls, Straight up baby, I'm blowin' up in the world. Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! I'm blowin' up the world, I gotta get mines, I gotta get mines. I gotsta get mines, you know what I'm sayin'? I'm blowin' up in the world. Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! I'm blowin' up the world, I gotta get mines, I gotta get mines. I gotsta get mines, yeah... It seems like only yesterday, my moms was on my back: "Get your butt up out the sack, and find a job, or hit the road, Jack." Black, I don't disown her, I'm just a kid from Corona. With a G.E.D. diploma, with more ribs showin' than Tony Rhoma's. In order to get straight, I gotsta to make a muscle; Learned to hustle and bustle, and I gave the streets a tussle. Standin' down on the corner, slangin' fat rocks to bottles. With the black tops, for cops got my shorty watchin' my back, Hobbes. Makin' mad lucci, bought up Louis Vuitton, Gucci. Hoochies callin' me boochi, while they smooch me, givin' up the coochie. Now I'm a felon, started sellin', and splittin' melons. I started gellin', to tellin' police, just 'cause I was swellin' Hangin' out on the corner, playin' cee-lo, rollin' for half a kilo. Yo, you'll never see G-low a-goin' below. Yeah, straight gettin' fortunate, as long as fees was torchin' it. It started gettin' hot around the block, the cops was scorchin' it. But luckily I made out before the coppers could frisk me, and diss me, 'Cause business in drugs is gettin' too risky. So now I just lamp, collect stamps, snatch up tramps' diamonds and pearls. Straight up, baby, I'm blowin' up in the world. Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! I'm blowin' up the world, I gotta get mines, I gotta get mines. I gotsta get mines, you know what I'm sayin'? I'm blowin' up in the world. Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! I'm blowin' up the world, I gotta get mines, I gotta get mines. I gotsta get mines, yeah... I got put on by DJ Polo, cut the record, "It's a Demo," And started chillin' in limos with champagne and tinted windows. Hoppin', no time for pages, sportin' gold chains and rings. Clockin' money and fame, nothin' changed, I'm still the same. Just spendin' twenties and tens at women pullin' on my linen, And grinnin' 'cause I was winnin' in this game, from the beginning. The lyrical skills was kinda ill, gave you a slight chill. So I just let the hype build, known for rappers run and go write wills. I turned from a hobo to a solo, bozin' for dolos. Stole my dough, you still below, now I perfer cigars and blow Mo'. So catch a flashback, of a G. Rap track, attacked, like a headcrack. That's smack, through your cap, with the lead black, And here's a new cut, for pooh-butt, rappers hangin' from off my Two nuts, like they was put there by members of the Ku Klux. So peep Kool G. Rap, don't sleep, money unless it's witcha girl. Straight up kid, I'm blowin' up in the world. Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! I'm blowin' up the world, I gotta get mines, I gotta get mines. I gotsta get mines, you know what I'm sayin? I'm blowin' up in the world. Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! Blowin' up, blowin' up in the world! I'm blowin' up the world, I gotta get mines, I gotta get mines. I gotsta get mines, yeah. |
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4:05 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
Comin straight off the sidewalks of New York
A nigga livin foul (repeat 2X) As I steps inside the playground I lays down my laws at the door and any nigga that's lookin for trouble gotsta face these silver double four's that I be packin on my hip hollow tips inside the clip Ready to rip a niggaz shit and make his wig slip to the side as a homocide's commited I gets rid of niggaz quick cause ain't no bullshit permitted I'm a outlaw, the motherfuckin villain doin killings, I won't stop until the morgue got bodies stacked up to the fuckin ceiling And ain't no drivebys, a mag and a bag lady, disguised and surprise you got a hole between your fuckin eyes Niggaz is grazed, catchin strays from the blaze Amazed by the ways I lays em down when my shit sprays Crazy brains hangin, and niggaz veins are swingin Bangin and gunslingin, even my own fuckin ears are ringin cause what I carry's much bigger than Dirty Harry's Do a Hail Mary, I make Bloody Mary's out of your capillaries Pieces of flesh, hangin off a niggaz chest, cause the vest that he dress, couldn't FUCK with the Smith and Wess' Motherfuckers runnin for miles, bodies stacked up in piles I'm killin executioner style Comin straight off the sidewalks of New York A nigga livin foul -- "I kill em executioner style" -> G. Rap (repeat 2X) I keeps my forty-five loaded with dum-dums, in rear I hold this right at my waist for just in case somebody gots to get exploded Cause G. Rap ain't that nigga that try to play so nigga lay low or get yourself a pair of wings, a harp, and a halo Clown, keep fuckin around, and you'll be dead G I'm spttin out the lead see, to split your fuckin head like the Red Sea Charged up with anger, six slugs in every chamber Dangerous stranger, with itchy trigger fingers like Lone Ranger I'm comin to split your cabbage like a savage and put two in yo' ass bitch and one inside the wifey and the baby carriage So head for the hills, I kills niggaz for thrills Causin crazy blood spill, when I let one drill in your grill I will pull out the glock to clear the blocky when I cock it Get laid and played out of pocket with a rocket in your eye socket So raise up queers, and say your fuckin prayers I've been killin for years, huntin motherfuckers like reindeers If one nigga's left standin, I'll squeeze the cannon (BOOM) Opened his motherfuckin ass like the Grand Canyon Layin faggot niggaz like towel when I gets wild and fouol I'm killin executioner style Comin straight off the sidewalks of New York A nigga livin foul -- "I kill em executioner style" -> G. Rap (repeat 2X) .. I take ten paces, draw my shit, and aim at niggaz faces Leavin no traces so a nigga's BEATIN body cases I'm wettin shit up, you get hit up, by the super soaker Brain after brain, I'm a motherfuckin chain smoker Cause it's the rootin tootin with the six-shooter Put a hole in your trooper so big niggaz can hula hoop ya Liftin them Smith and Wessuns like the westerns I blow out a niggaz intestines, and send him back to the fuckin essence Bullet rows, blows out the nose of my fo'-fo' Gunnin down all you bozos who run and call for po-po Send in paramedics and bring a lot of antisthetics Motherfuckin bodies are beheaded, niggaz are shredded So nigga get ready to meet your fuckin fate, when I send six trey-eight straight into your motherfuckin chest plate G. Rap been murderin niggaz since a child, you can go and check my files I'm killin executioner style Comin straight off the sidewalks of New York A nigga livin foul -- "I kill em executioner style" -> G. Rap (repeat 2X more Kool G Rap Lyrics |
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4:53 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
The time has come, we gotta expand, the whole operation
Distribution, New York, to Chicago, L.A. We gotta set our own market, and enforce it [Verse One: Kool G Rap] Champagne wishes of caviar dreams ?a penis didn't cream? With sales of fish scales from triple beams I gleam Livin the live of rowdy packin fifty cali's Rockin lizard Bally's while we do our drug deal in a dark alley Up in casinos just me and my dino primo Pushin beam-o's then parlay in Reno with two fly latinos Nas, he runs the whole staff, we count mad for seen bad We've seen a half a milli dashin out there on the Queens half Three major players gettin papers by the layers And those that portray us on the block get rocked like Domateus Fakers get used to shootin targets, soon as the dark hits Front on the drug market, bodies get rolled up in a carpet Those that cheat us try to beat us we got hookers with heaters That'll stray pop and put more shells in your top than Adidas Da leaders, lookin straight crimy in our Giorgio Armani's You wanna harm me and Nas you gots ta come get through a whole army The celo rollers money folders sippin bola holdin mad payola Slangin a Coke without the Cola Me and black don't fake jacks but we might sling one It ain't no shame in our game we do our thing son [Chorus] Livin the fast life, in fast cars Everywhere we go, people know who we are A team from out of Queens with the american dream So we're plottin up a scheme to get the seven figure cream (repeat 2X) [Verse Two: Nas Escobar] Yo I got, guns from Italy, smoke trees, considerably Mid-state and Green it seems, is where all my niggaz be The ghetto misery, shootouts and liquor stores A perpendicular, angle of the clout war Police searchin up my Lex over who's petrol My tech blows straight off the roof and tests yo' respect though But dough don't respect me, it got me handcuffed The rough life, I just be up nights, breathin with scuffed Nike's Pour my beers for my peoples under the stairs These years I got they names in my swears Poppin Cristal like it's my first child, lickin shots, holiday style Rockin Steele sweaters, Wallaby down Twenty-four carats, countin cabbage, like the Arabs The marriage of me and the mic is just like magic Elegant performance, bubble Lex full insurance Guzzlin Guinness shootin catchin cases concurrent It's Nas, seven hundred wives, King Solomon size We on the rise, me and G, ghetto wise guys The Luciano Frankie Aiel, Bugsy Seagal Green papers with eagles from a tray that's illegal *singer* Brother you've got to make it happen Yeahhhahhyeahhh, get this money, yeahhh Brother you've got to make it happen When you're living in the fast life, heyy yeah yeah [Verse Three: G Rap, Nas] [Rap] Aiyyo my lifestyle's exquisite, yayo like a blizzard [Nas] It's choir attire standin on ground with one pivot [Rap] Two players rockin silk blazers and diamonds like glaciers [Nas] Lands with namebrand seats reclinin like in spaceships [Rap] Bodies on ice [Nas] Livin trife, rollin fixed up dice [Rap] Gamblin Grants [Nas] Handlin stamps [duo] Moves are sheist [Nas] My bankrolls, got the cops comin in plain clothes [Rap] Tryin to arraign again cause of our fame that's how the game goes [Nas] True [Rap] Right out the slammer with the fame and glamour Cookin up grams with Arm & Hammer supplyin scramblers in Alabama [Nas] Rub out faces and leave no traces My aces got mad body cases, preserve spaces at the horse races Servin us Dom P my cliquo Dimes with magnifico, puttin in cut inside ?perico? Heat for foes, shoppin sprees with my fleet for clothes In Caribbean suites, deep, rippin beats with flows [Rap] Aiyyo, we went from standin on blocks, without some socks Sellin rocks, to pickin up stock and boat docks with glocks And got poppy seed fields with million dollar bills Packin all the blue steel we keeps it real inside the battlefield [Nas] Yeah so here's a toast to the funds and things Gun smokes in rings, graveyards is buried with kings [Chorus] |
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3:45 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
I knew a youngster met him at 14 a very short scene
Fiendin' to make his dreams come true but see money was caught mean Started runnin' wild and livin' life type of foul that was my shorty's style But deep down in heart he was still only a child He was typin' nice at ball if he had height y'all Might of been 'NBA Today' instead I watched his life fall Blowin' up the spots and poppin' them tec glocks Collectin' street props, splittin' tops, didn't stop, so many men dropped Started committin' murder after murder Blasted the last nigga that tried to riff so fast he flipped him like a burger Slipped and became the victim of his own murder hunger He got put six feet under by a small shorty that was younger And this type of street violence today happens too often It hit me hard as hell to see my dog up in the coffin People droppin' a rose when the casket is closed Hey yo, that's the name of the game out on the street, that's how it goes They say: "Live by the trigger, die by the trigger" It ain't about whose gun is more bigger, nigga It's bout whose draw is quicker So to my shorty dog puzzled I'm pledgin' Died at the age of 17, Brooklyn East New York legend (Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers) Keep it real on the street, money, and look out for one another Thinkin' back when I was chillin' with K-Von, but now he's long gone So I carried on and wrote this song to keep the strong on Me and black-o way back in childhood when we was wild hoods Runnin around the neighborhood and up to no good Started hangin' hard out there on the boulevard in stolen cars Then put behind bars sellin' drugs and pullin' yards Then my crimey got locked up for cookin' the rock up Started bouncin' uptown to stuck up, my nigga straight blew the block up Yeah, the blue and whites was on sight runnin' with flashlights On the double a fast life, that's when he seen his last nights Out on the street runnin' from the heat Then got locked up from (Happy New Year!) All the way down to (New Year's Eve!) The two of those in a wardrobe of clothes Got back on crackin', I let him whip the macks and go lookin' for hoes And then another sad story is headed for me When i found out another soldier died in the territory So in memory of my dog I write a lyric Straight hopin' melodies travel from my mind to your spirit Hear it when I get biz for K-Von, I'm pledgin' Died on 104 Northern Boulevard, Corona, Queens legend (Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers) Keep it real on the street, money, and look out for one another 3X (Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers) Keep it real on the street |
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4:28 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
[Chorus: x2]
Yo you gotta go you gotta go you gotta go (G: And aiyyo what you don't know believe the ghetto knows) [Kool G. Rap] New York New York the city that never sleeps Bodies covered in white sheets are layin' in the streets Shit gets deep as we creep up the block by the kids slangin' rocks And holdin' glocks stolen from the cops to get props You gotta split a top on the regular Or get plugged in your mug, from a slug, by your competitor Gunshots echo throughout the city like thunder, no wonder Another brother six feet under You know it ain't no jokin' when the streetlights are broken So keep your eyes open, or get ready for a, smokin' 'loc Step out of line, I hope you got your nine gun son The Smith and Wess', you better press 9-1-1 (word up) Or make a run for it there's too many to tackle The Big Apple will put your ass on ice like a Snapple So even though I rap I gots to stay strapped Niggas act up I back up (PI-YAH) I bust a cap inside your fuckin' hat Don't even pose with them hoes, the swinger that you chose Just might be down with the foes, only the shadow knows And ain't no lollipop, lollipop over here only the shottie pops (BOOM) Now just sit back and watch the bodies drop The younger gunmen got the bigger niggaz runnin' The shorties (what) the shorties (what) the shorties are comin' To push a nigga wig back, and leave his ass flat on his back The motherfuckin' ghetto knows, and it's like that [Chorus] [Kool G. Rap] Today's headlines, another nigga dead Six to the body and fo' to the head Followed the red bitch in the bed full of lead A drug-related case and now the place is filled with Feds Ramshacked the shack, disclose 'bout two kilos of dope Two ounces of coke's caught in the pocket of his coat So, another brother caught the ultimate surprise With blown out brains, to drop stains on his eyes Dazed as I sit back and watch the channel two news Watchin' his family goin' through all the boo-hoos You lose, like an Ill Street, the Blues are gettin' deeper Nothin' left in the room except for him, the Grim Reaper Police are takin' [unknown] snapshots, scoop up some blood drops Pull out a file on a juvenile child of mugshots The cops knew he fell victim to laws on the street So they just, pull out the white sheets, to cover up the dead meat Seal off the area with yellow tape, draw the white chalk around the body now the party has to motivate One more outlaw, was murdered on the scene for the green Died at the age of seventeen [Chorus] [Kool G. Rap] Strollin' the concrete, packin' my heat, walkin' the backstreets I seen niggaz pull up, peepin' me out the side a black Jeep Six feet deep, that's where I'm goin' if I'm slippin' Steady cockin' my shit cause I already got the clip in Now who's the first nigga to run up, here they come up The block hardrocks with glocks rollin' holdin' they guns up I buck, I buck, and then I struck one in the chest Nigga should of wore a vest but now his ass is put to rest But now I got three mo' niggaz, pullin triggers Strays are ricochetin' off the bricks, zigga zigga But who got the biggest strap? Who's bustin' bigger caps? My BOOM BOOM BOOMS against they PAP PAP PAPS No haps, G. Rap ain't goin' out like a sucker I reloaded the shot and dropped another motherfucker Quick, I duck and shit to dodge the bullets comin' at me 'Cause I won't be too happy with a slug inside my nappy Two more niggaz left, they scared to death, but I'm leary Shit gets kinda scary when I got bulletholes near me I went between two cars, lettin' off the quarter pound I see another body fallin' down to the ground Quick I run up on him cause I don't think that he's dead Standin' over his ass I put two more inside his head That's three niggaz down, only got one nigga to go I gots to send his ass to the gravedigger so I lay low in the cut and wait for moneygrip to slip up Nearly shot my whole clip up, I got one more slug to rip up Look over by the GS, see his ass stickin his head out Boom, let the lead out, blew a piece of his brain dead out The back of his head, now he's dead, because he fell face down Right on the motherfuckin' streets that he dwelled [Repeat Chorus] |
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1:02 | 
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| from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995) | |||||
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4:02 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
And once again it's big G, runnin the number rackets
Wearin Pele jackets Fast loot tactics, I'm well up in the millionaire bracket The boss of all bosses, I own racehorses and a fortress Corridors with olympic torches and Mona Lisa portraits Jacuzzis and saunas and eatin steak at Benny Harner's Bentley's limousine the front yard stream is full of pirahnas I'm set, a private jet, I drink a lot of Beck's Get a lot of sess condo and duplex, diamond infested Rolex Deliver a crown at the world units with silver china Sippin on finer wine-are you see more shines than diamond miners The Highness, kingpin of heroin I'm thorough when I have to bring the terror in Handle business in each and every borough in Town or city, I'm rollin like Frank Nitty, I'm rich and pretty Back up kiddies, I got crimies that's grimy and gritty A nigga that's spunky and likes to keep his pockets chunky Makin most of my money, from all the dopefiends and junkies I learned from the best the ones that's livin And the ones that's put to rest So I bless my chest with a vest and pack a Smith-N-Wes And then I'm off to get the snaps, not the scraps The game is be a real mack, the name is cool G Rap Now it's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes you want to holler It's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes you want to holler I got a fly hoe up under the wing, a swinger that does her thing And if you step inside my ring, she'll bang it out and make your brains hang She sits at restaurant tables with mink foxes and sables Drinkin Cherenade brand label she'll rock a sucker's cradle And yeah, honey is more bounce to the ounce She walks around with lucci in large amounts Millions inside Swiss bank accounts Her name is Tammy, got a beach house in Miami Rides around with a small jammy in her silk and satin panties A down hoe, a Foxy Brown hoe, standin her ground hoe And if you clown yo she'll turn into a bust a round hoe Fly as a Heaven's Angel got sapphires in her bangles Diamond earrings hangin dingle gettin money from all angles She's pretty under the New York city bright lights And real light, way after midnight, I hit it cause the slit's tight Wake up early and make my rounds, break up break down Packin a silver four pound, some clowns be trying to get down Light up a smoke and grab a stack of see-notes Them slick stick up kids don't get no free dough bro 'Cause I ain't tryin to be broke I goes all out for G Rap and this honey nothin funny It's a damn shame, what I gotta do to get the money Now it's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes me want to holler It's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes me want to holler No it ain't no sleeping over [Repeat until fade] |
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3:08 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
And once again it's big G, runnin the number rackets
Wearin Pele jackets Fast loot tactics, I'm well up in the millionaire bracket The boss of all bosses, I own racehorses and a fortress Corridors with olympic torches and Mona Lisa portraits Jacuzzis and saunas and eatin steak at Benny Harner's Bentley's limousine the front yard stream is full of pirahnas I'm set, a private jet, I drink a lot of Beck's Get a lot of sess condo and duplex, diamond infested Rolex Deliver a crown at the world units with silver china Sippin on finer wine-are you see more shines than diamond miners The Highness, kingpin of heroin I'm thorough when I have to bring the terror in Handle business in each and every borough in Town or city, I'm rollin like Frank Nitty, I'm rich and pretty Back up kiddies, I got crimies that's grimy and gritty A nigga that's spunky and likes to keep his pockets chunky Makin most of my money, from all the dopefiends and junkies I learned from the best the ones that's livin And the ones that's put to rest So I bless my chest with a vest and pack a Smith-N-Wes And then I'm off to get the snaps, not the scraps The game is be a real mack, the name is cool G Rap Now it's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes you want to holler It's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes you want to holler I got a fly hoe up under the wing, a swinger that does her thing And if you step inside my ring, she'll bang it out and make your brains hang She sits at restaurant tables with mink foxes and sables Drinkin Cherenade brand label she'll rock a sucker's cradle And yeah, honey is more bounce to the ounce She walks around with lucci in large amounts Millions inside Swiss bank accounts Her name is Tammy, got a beach house in Miami Rides around with a small jammy in her silk and satin panties A down hoe, a Foxy Brown hoe, standin her ground hoe And if you clown yo she'll turn into a bust a round hoe Fly as a Heaven's Angel got sapphires in her bangles Diamond earrings hangin dingle gettin money from all angles She's pretty under the New York city bright lights And real light, way after midnight, I hit it cause the slit's tight Wake up early and make my rounds, break up break down Packin a silver four pound, some clowns be trying to get down Light up a smoke and grab a stack of see-notes Them slick stick up kids don't get no free dough bro 'Cause I ain't tryin to be broke I goes all out for G Rap and this honey nothin funny It's a damn shame, what I gotta do to get the money Now it's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes me want to holler It's a damn shame, what I gotta do just to make a dollar Living in this game, sometimes it makes me want to holler No it ain't no sleeping over [Repeat until fade] |
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4:53 |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
Ninety-five, keep it live
Yeah to make papers, knahmsayin? Motherfuckin Kool G. Rap and B1 and my motherfuckin man Grimm Just comin with somethin to keep the brainstem .. [B1] It's Big 1 son, Jamaica Queens is the turf And I'ma exploit, heaven and earth, for what it's worth It's the MC extrordinaire, the jewels glare The God is rare, I'm takin bitches back to my lair I want mines and yours, strippin niggaz to they drawers No probable cause, with the chrome double 4's It's the Queens New Yorker with a bulletproof parka In eighty-four, it was Calvins and British Walkers Now I'm sippin Harvey's Bristal Cream with the glock 17 as the sirens race to the scene Tryin to get dough, like Pablo, today, fuck tomorrow Seats for carro, as I recline in Monte Carlo I got the game down to a science, it's the clients that turn small time hustlers into giants Three course meal, waitin for my appetizer Blowin like a geyser, time only makes me wiser Paraphenalia, and material, makes the crew imperial I put the fear in you, sippin beer with two Handlin business properly, form a monopoly Storefront property, if not, another robbery I'm puttin forth the effort, murder's the method The steak is peppered Son when I let off you meet your Lord and shepherd Bloody money gets niggaz deaded and wetted Don't forget it, money's the metal and my hand is magnetic Chorus: Grimm, B1 I gotta flip these bricks cause bein broke drive me insane Money's on my motherfuckin brain From O-Z's to ki's the triple beam brings fame to my name Money's on my motherfuckin brain Niggaz be scheamin and teamin but still I maintain Money's on my motherfuckin brain Cause money and murder go hand in hand It ain't nothin but a game Money's on my motherfuckin brain son [Grimm] Cryin hopin God forgive me for the ones I killed But until still, I dry my eyes with hundred dollar bills Like McDonald's, makin mills servin Fuck a Landcruiser now, pulls a ? to Suburban Stressed out, sittin thinkin past bed time Scared can't sleep, nightmares about fed time Diamonds, linens, ostrich and all that Fat shit I'm talkin code cause my phone's tapped Crackheads worship me like I'm Jesus Uncle Sam can't stand me cause I'm fuckin all his nieces Cuties every colour, who I wanna fuck next? Buy a new car, maybe Lamborghini trunk next Look at the jealousy in the eyes of the roughnecks Bulletproof glass just in case they wanna buck Tecs A large ratio in this game dies But I'm flippin pies, til the Senate legalize Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap (same lines) [Kool G. Rap] I'm sportin flavors and Timbs, a ninety-five Bezn with the chrome rims Presedential Rolex, two carat diamonds with the stone gems Pockets filled with lucci leather wallets designed by Gucci Parlay in resteraunts, eatin shrimp, scampi and sushi Fly minks, with icicles that blink inside cuban links Lookin ?, brothers stink, got loot like I'm doin banks Hundred dollar bottles of chammy, condos in Miami Front row seats up at the Grammy's, the broke niggaz can't stand me Hold the flame low, hotel suites inside the Flamingo Just home by the dingos, I step up in em rockin Kangols Straight up fakin no jacks, cause all my crackshacks are jam packed My mad stacks, show that I'm on the right track, like Amtrak So stand back, cause I'ma make whatever it takes to shake Jakes, and shoot snakes, and bake more snowflake cakes than Drake's Cut up your grill like I'm the Barber of Seville Still like Gotti bodies are found inside the harbor cause I'm ill It's war, but no more kids are bein kidnapped, matter of fact ain't with the shit black, I was young when I did that There's dope in the Copa Cabanas, cock back the hammers So niggaz in pajamas get they wigs split like bananas Stable of hotties, niggaz with shotties catchin bodies Neighborhood John Gotti with more notes than Pavarotti Yeah, paid as a motherfuckin bank teller The Goodfella, I stay a motherfuckin drug seller Chorus: Grimm, G. Rap, B1 (G and B alternate) [ad-lib to outro] |
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from Kool G Rap - 4,5,6 (1995)
[Chorus]
Shit ain't never gonna change... Fuck it! Time to load the clips, then we take 'em to war. Niggaz want to flip, then we take 'em to war. Break a nigga proper, then we break him some more. I represent the murderers and felony offenders, Who either bought time out, to get these legal tenders. (Surrender!) Nah, I'm goin' out with a bang, nigga. Fuck Pataki, I gotta do my thang, nigga. Forty-four mag, bustin' into action. Brains left in particles, fragments and fractions. Grimm, the money stacker, heat packer. I'm lurkin', I'm waitin', attackin' like a linebacker. Fuck what you heard, crime pays. And always, unorthodox, I hold my pistol sideways. We kill crews, hearts go numb, And if retaliation comes then yo, fuck it, it just comes. (Yo, who you?) I'm Dr. Death, motherfucker, ever heard of me? Close your eyes, cross your fingers, time for surgery. I'm already dead, so nah, you can't murder me, 'Cause quantities of entities enter me evilly. [Chorus x 2] Since I murder for hire, rapid fire's what I require. Makin' niggaz perspire, so send a message through the wire. 'Cause violence is contagious, it got me bustin' gauges. The '95 Larry Davis, and I'm wettin' niggaz for wages. Queens is the home of one, the known felon, And ain't no tellin', when I'm a crack your fuckin' melon. For the right amount of chips, I spit clips and hit whips. Leavin' niggaz bloody, the leather seats is where the shit drips. With the pound-seven, I be creepin', rockin' niggaz, while they sleepin'. Shots repeatin', leavin' faggot niggaz leakin'. When I cock back the iron, niggaz is dyin', marchin' to Zion. 'Cause the pound-cake, roars like a lion. Word, son, niggaz be collapsin', cause my weapons is Ready for action, makin' your heart catch contractions. In the underworld, shootin' gallery niggaz lose calories, 'Cause my salary's based on fatalities. [Chorus x 2] Here I come to get some motherfuckin' wreck, but first I gotta, Um, vest check, uncheck, clip one check, clip two check, I'm set. So let a motherfucker move a muscle. When I tussle, they'll be piecin' niggaz back like fuckin' puzzles. 'Cause Kool G. Rap is known for bringin' mad noise, a bad boy. When I was younger, always carried guns, I never had toys. Grimm, gimme the infrared, they see me, and I'm puttin' red dots On niggaz foreheads, to makin' motherfuckers indian. You got beef? Go get yourself a wreath, because it's murder. 'Cause I put holes in my beef, like fuckin' White Castle burgers. So now I gots to run up on a clown with the fo' pound. Cock back, rock black, gun a nigga down. I see 'em, he's comin' out the fuckin' Coliseum, And hopped into a B-M, shit! Put in my clip, and then I dipped into the ride that my man had, Parked on the sidewalk, then we start to glide. I'm rainin' on him, (faster nigga.) oh yeah, we're gainin' on him. (Oh shit, he's with somebody else.) Fuck it, put his brain on him. Boom, boom, no survivors, lifted the nigga out his seat. When they find him, he'll be a backseat driver. But I ain't finished with the trigger yet, I'm lightin' up a cigarette. Bang, bang, I left the other nigga wet. It's G. Rap, baby, you know me. You try to hurt this, I split your fuckin top and leave a fingerprint on purpose. |
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from Mobb Deep - Mobb Muzik [Clean Version] (1999)
<i>[Intro]</i>
<i>[Pee]</i> this the killa's shit dun <i>[G. Rap]</i> No Doubt .The undisputed.. <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Kool G. Rap]</i> For street niggas livin with they lives on the line <i>[Prodigy]</i> For young guns comin' up during these times <i>[Kool G. Rap]</i> For police that find drugs let niggas slide <i>[Prodigy]</i> For niggas out slinging like 4 in the night <i>[Kool G. Rap]</i> For your mans not snitchin' when the pressure is tight <i>[Prodigy]</i> For pistols that don't jam when it's time to strike <i>[Kool G. Rap]</i> For bootleg liquor on a Sunday night <i>[Prodigy]</i> This be the realest shit you heard in your life. <i>[Kool G. Rap]</i> Yo When the gats reveal You cats get peeled and that's the deal Fuck a bitch-ass that switch fast niggas that lack the real When the slugs burst G.Rap be aiming at your mug first Niggas is blood thirst We'll see who get plugged worst We dug earth The place you put the nickel-plate is to your facial Bullets ain't racial kid the only hate you My nine will seem like it's a time machine B.C. date you Jacking you more than ripper My fifth's an organ shifter The human organism lifter You'll be hearing organs If ya leaving orphans, If ya Let these fours hit ya where the law split ya A fork pitcher To bump heads with those that dump lead Accurate shot in back of your knot Leave you one dead G.Rap,Havoc and Prodigy Let's put these bitch niggas where bodies be dun Yo if it gotta be,it gotta be <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Havoc]</i> Yo when the gat spit Some niggaz get blown off the atlas It happens unsolved mystery re-enatmus Get practiced what you lack is You think like the average Jake stoop down and leavin' crime scenes entangled Nothing but cannons get conspicuous Like a man a little branded with the serial scratched Wild out a part of the pack 'cause they made me like that If I could push back the clock probably leave it like that Draw blood for my nigga G.O.D,Ty Nitty and Twin And Twin is not here plus my kin Killa B forever with me Quick to settle with me Into QB to show love throughout the years with me You got guns we got guns the serious ones Leaving foul powder stuck in your lungs We come from where niggas look out for they dun-duns Love never disrespect hit shit to re-direct <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Prodigy]</i> Never prejudge It be the humble that squeeze slugs It be the ones standin' still that'll peel guns Spill blood for my duns thuggin' for me Man you don't wanna get involved fuckin' with Pee I spent more nights illin' less nights chillin' The more shots they hold the better they feel it What be the dealizz Some killas like to hide behind specs Others got blatant disrespectin' the rest Or so young that you wouldn't even expect To be burstin' off guns like a vietnam vet On the steps Sittin' in the staircase bent Thinkin' on ways to take another man's head Go to war with niggas that's against what I rep I settle things with a heavy metal fifth Change clips Switch clothes after I spit Put niggas back in they place for shit that's on the mind kid <i>[Chorus]</i> |
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from U.N.K.L.E. - Psyence Fiction (1999)
Styles like Al Pacino
Reno until the carcelino The mad dino with the cambino, the gambino Digger than Jim COlisemo More reservoir dogs than Tarantino Scales for Venezuela, Brown as Ni O Making the block hotter than Jalepe OS G. Luciano Be wettin' shit like piesce in "Casino" Fifty dollar cigar seer The cosnia, the mafia Don P. like Garcia Drug Czar and the baby-Pah beater The M-8 behind the bar-freer The poughkenoughs, the panama skier Down with the parmesan Ready to comb like Vietnam with arms 'Cause the hollow-points and phenomenon The cheddar-spreader The killer with the gold Carretta N-Leader The sweater-letter with the hollow letter Drama-setter The patmeretta gettin' redder kids and mamma Shredder Infra-red clow off the armour better The godfather, the problem solver Coming through with the 6 shell revolver Hot as lava Guns skills that reel and in the 'ville I be the barber Gangster saga, the motha-fuckin' face carver Drums of death hold your breath Give you a dose of shit that's dope as soda The underworld family cosa-nostra Pearl-handle inside the shoulder-holster G. Luciano with a click but nothin' but N-S & Chicanos You get hit up like Castrelano italiano like crime familia N- don't get familiar Me and my goons might have to kill you Up in New York We play bloodsports at home court And hold down forts Soon as ya caught, get your dome torched G Rap and Dj Shadow leave your bone squashed Squeeze the chrome short, take no shorts We judge and jury in the home court Give you the clown corpse dead on the sidewalk Surrounded by mad pedefors Your whole frame laid in the white chalk You got the smoking section First-class tickets to resurrection Forever destined to a place where N-S never rest in Headed in hell's direction Lost at the crossroads and intersection Should've wore a vest for chest protection Slug fill you to capacity, someone at the dance Someone with the hand velocity of Butch Cassidy Bitch N- with the audacity to blaspheme me Got yourself caught in a motha-fuckin' tragedy Drums of death |
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from Big L - The Big Picture [Explicit Version] (2000)
(L) Yeah, check this shit out
(K) Kool G. Rap and my dog Big L (K) Holdin it di-down, ya heard? (Big L) Aiyyo; I heard your single, you better make a whole new song If they said that shit is hot then they told you wrong Clown niggaz, you ain't got a chance at all Big L Corleone too advanced for y'all I make moves and boss all across the world so don't be upset if I toss your girl I got cheddar to blow, pockets never get low Bitches sweat me wherever I go I cruise in a GS Lex', Cartier specs Nautica sweats with the fresh Gortex Jewels with baguettes, swingin like the Mets Throwin the dice and takin all size bets Never bummy; sip rummy, get money When I hit honies you felt the dick in her tummy On the le-low I see dough from here to Rio Flamboyant Records, C to the E-O - what? Chorus: Kool G. Rap Yo - all of y'all weak people fall back G. Rap and Big L, we all that Goin back to back where they brawl at Swing and walk with tall bats Leavin big holes with small gats Have 'em all fallin where the wall at All of y'all weak people fall back G. Rap and Big L, we all that Goin back to back where they brawl at Swing and walk with tall bats Leavin big holes with small gats Have 'em all fallin where the wall at (Kool G. Rap) Yo, from the spot to the cellblocks Hot as hell blocks where shells pop Where they sell rock to cop the SL drop Hood bitches in nail shops; no good snitches that tell cops People find bodies in lobbies, you can smell shots Niggaz turn stale on the Rock until they bail drop New York livin, got a nigga four-fifth limpin Send you as a gift to the mortician if you forfeit livin - my fortune is forbidden I say it one time before spittin then I leave your forehead drippin I laid low then came back for more bread grippin More thread flippin More head from chickens, it's time to turn the ape loose Bust out the cage and let the gauge loose Blow the feathers out of your Nordface goose It's G. Rap comin back with a click of brave troops Have y'all niggaz runnin for homebase like Babe Ruth Have you holdin holes in your body like you play flute Lay you down til you get found up in the sprayed Coupe Prepare for the takeover - give you the face makeover the seedier row and sheet draped over Be found on the block with the street taped over or comin out of deep coma, your speech made slower Corona Queens shakedown; I'm comin with the nickel-plate pound to trade rounds with all you fake clowns get down in the unsafe town Lacin it down, black guerilla fams kid we takin the crown ya heard? Chorus 2X (Kool G. Rap) Yo Kool G. Rap, holdin it down with the hazardous Big L Knahmean? {*echoes*} |
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from Black And White [Explicit Version] (Black And White) [ost] (2000)
(feat. Big Punisher, Kool G. Rap)
[Kool G. Rap] No doubt The real drama shit All ya rap niggas pay homage When he raps, spit atomics When verse crash the Earth like a comet Raise a prophet, make hot lava spit out like vomit We Vietnam it, scramble ya brain like an omelette Spling baby link the bomb it, keep you reek niggas in bondage A convicts we Allah, then we bomb it We trom it, it take a Terror Squad to dis arm it We layin with grenades in our palms, two hours longer [Big Punisher] Ah shit nigga, you got me started momma one of the good boys Said she got a 400 pound retarted Bronx nigga from the Projects What nigga you don't want it, cock figga figga got it You make me sick, fuckin wit Pun, youse a crazy bitch Hold him for ransom, or cut off his tongue in cause he itchin 80 stitches across cheak, 70 more for talkin cheap A buck 50 even nigga, that's regulation on the street [yo and come on scratched] "No man can go against me!" [more scratchin] "You don't stop me" [Kool G. Rap] Probaly socks soes inside the trenches Closin in for miles to inches, killin the distance, enemy flinches Death finces left for kid limus Made mine behind the barb wire fences Crossfire tent winters Saw my man blow, bandana tied tight like Rambo Burn a slug make the land glow Niggas screamin for medics and ammo Every soldier in your camp go [Big Punisher] Me and my man Joe got ya back AKA Joey Crack, AK with the mack, makin my to the pack Everyday I gotta be strapped, cuz niggas don't know how to act You don't wanna go the gap, cuz T-Squad gonna react Whatta we go? thugs and ammo, by a hundred tons of guns and rambos Just in case you comin Commando I'm a Sopranos and Corleones wit they own armies And a couple of morrenos that'll die for me [Kool G. Rap] Hammers a law under the camouflage here to take jars Put a cap inside ya cap and leave a four in your sarge Killas are large, my two trade pound gauge will sound hard For every round sabotage, bodies hit the ground hard [Big Punisher] That's a pound dog bout to get down and put the work Try the jury but it wouldn't work, skit but it wouldn't merk He glass, no glass, think fast yo ass too late, muthafucka Put a d-rap too fast [scratches] "Act like you want Drama" "Kool G. Rap" "Big Pun" "X-Executioners style" |
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from Black and White [Clean Version] (Black and White) [ost] (2000)
(feat. Big Punisher, Kool G. Rap)
[Kool G. Rap] No doubt The real drama shit All ya rap niggas pay homage When he raps, spit atomics When verse crash the Earth like a comet Raise a prophet, make hot lava spit out like vomit We Vietnam it, scramble ya brain like an omelette Spling baby link the bomb it, keep you reek niggas in bondage A convicts we Allah, then we bomb it We trom it, it take a Terror Squad to dis arm it We layin with grenades in our palms, two hours longer [Big Punisher] Ah shit nigga, you got me started momma one of the good boys Said she got a 400 pound retarted Bronx nigga from the Projects What nigga you don't want it, cock figga figga got it You make me sick, fuckin wit Pun, youse a crazy bitch Hold him for ransom, or cut off his tongue in cause he itchin 80 stitches across cheak, 70 more for talkin cheap A buck 50 even nigga, that's regulation on the street [yo and come on scratched] "No man can go against me!" [more scratchin] "You don't stop me" [Kool G. Rap] Probaly socks soes inside the trenches Closin in for miles to inches, killin the distance, enemy flinches Death finces left for kid limus Made mine behind the barb wire fences Crossfire tent winters Saw my man blow, bandana tied tight like Rambo Burn a slug make the land glow Niggas screamin for medics and ammo Every soldier in your camp go [Big Punisher] Me and my man Joe got ya back AKA Joey Crack, AK with the mack, makin my to the pack Everyday I gotta be strapped, cuz niggas don't know how to act You don't wanna go the gap, cuz T-Squad gonna react Whatta we go? thugs and ammo, by a hundred tons of guns and rambos Just in case you comin Commando I'm a Sopranos and Corleones wit they own armies And a couple of morrenos that'll die for me [Kool G. Rap] Hammers a law under the camouflage here to take jars Put a cap inside ya cap and leave a four in your sarge Killas are large, my two trade pound gauge will sound hard For every round sabotage, bodies hit the ground hard [Big Punisher] That's a pound dog bout to get down and put the work Try the jury but it wouldn't work, skit but it wouldn't merk He glass, no glass, think fast yo ass too late, muthafucka Put a d-rap too fast [scratches] "Act like you want Drama" "Kool G. Rap" "Big Pun" "X-Executioners style" |
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from Ghost Dog (고스트 독) by RZA [ost] (2000)
Yeah
Shake your funky ass, bitch Yaknowmean... Yo Yo we divide cakes to rise the stakes Me and my apes die for papes Bust heat and hide from jake Up in the skyscrape, on top of the world Back yourself against the wall, gun brawl Kid, I end it for all ya'll (Shake that cake bitch) Son'll stop the dough from flowin Spotless rock glowin, shots are blowin Pop the c-lock, rollin waistline and glock is showin We keep it thugged out, who not knowin get your knot blown in Yo yo Bob Digital and Kool G Rap, we set the booby trap African wiz wit the gat inside her dooby wrap Derelict rhyme crabs, you rappin for a Scooby Snack Foul-tongued bitch, you bound to lick my doody crack Verbal pellets spray, tec sound makes my amex Every slap on my snare drum son could break necks You get yanked up and spanked up, your face shanked up Who the FUCK raise your rank up? I blow your tank up, pop the lock on a cop handcuff Puff a dutch of dust, bust the jump' up and snuff out the judge Fuck a cell block, black top capsule, the mailbox It's heavy-bone birds stash glock in the nailshop One the strip, took a sip, twist the L top The God jewels son sound like a third rail shock The gold crossbone, doorag, universal flag Blast at the turbo charge and purple herbal drag Known for the W, carry a double-two in the shoe Iron snub rubber noose in the bubble goose Bullets soaked in oil, hot heat will flame broil Wu-Tang slang I bang makes your brain coil Shaolin gods we known to stack cakes Desert Queen projects son, they bake cakes Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes Cold Medina sons, they known to take cakes Yo, we have the Wu-Tang, we let two's bang That's how we do thangs, that's how we move thangs Shoes paid wit two in the brain Keep the ice blue in the Range Me and The RZ' quick wit two of them dames Got my dick blew in the Range My nigga keep it true to the game It ain't no tellin what I do to you lames If my mood change, choose to aim Do you and your dudes the same Go against grain and lose a fame Who claim life in the thug lane but life is real Lead come out of pipes of steel Rob, kill, or heist for mills Spill as I let out and slice your grill Nigga don't think twice to peel Just open shop and dice to grill Send the six out, bust crib route To the brickhouse, steppin on new terrain, bring the click out The streets don't wanna see you read, let a clip out These niggas slip out, make they blood drip out Yo we divide the cakes to rise the stakes Me and my apes die for papes Bust heat and hide from jake Up in the skyscrape, on top of the world Back is up against the wall, gun brawl Kid, I end it for all ya'll The flood'll stop the dough from flowin Spotless rock glowin, shots I'm blowin Pop the c-lock, rollin waistline, the glock is showin e keep it thugged out, who not knowin get your knot blown in We said Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes Cold Medina sons, you known to take cakes Desert Queen project wizes, they bake cakes Shaolin gods, we known to stack cakes Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes Cold Medina sons is known to take cakes Desert Queen project cats, they bake cakes Shaolin gods, we known to stack cakes Desert Queen project cats, they bake cakes Shaolin gods is known to stack cakes Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes Cold Medina son is bound to take cakes |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
[Intro]
Heyyo check it This goes out for all of the ones that's walkin' around here Out in the streets blindfolded Not knowin' what's really goin' on Nawimsayin? These streets is a habitat baby Word up Pito [Verse 1] In the garden of snakes, ain't no breaks, no mistakes Just games that's played at high stakes, the next guys wake Try ta fly strait, not violate if you wanna die late The tri-state, crime at a high rate, where peoples dilate Gun shots that make the block vibrate, it shook niggas migrate Some die by fate, yo niggas cry hate A fly facer get they thighs scraped And little PUS that's why raped A kid inside his gate get murdered by jake A young nigga try ta fly capes, and get caught on the FBI tape In verse of the State Lost the case and gotta fry date Ninety ninety eight, day of July eighth Some cats get ta stack the hot papes Live in the skyscrapes Go ta airline, buy flyin' states Where they can hibernate and operate Impregnate, so ??? Other niggas will lay the power race, wit tre 8's Try to apply weight, and ready ta die staced off and dehydrate [Chorus] Cannon fire light up the town I stand my ground and hold the fort down wit the forty pound You bust a round, I bust a round and lay your shorty down On enemy territory grounds ta fall me down Son how that sound? Cannon fire light up the town I stand my ground and hold the fort down wit the forty pound You bust a round, I bust a round and lay your shorty down On enemy territory grounds ta fall me down Son how that sound? [Verse 2] It's like a time bomb you hit Vietnam ta Saigon Keep your mind calm, your nine on, me hard ta find harm Peep the crime dons rollin' wit ex-cons holdin' they out rons And teflons ta be streets flooded wit red ponds Like it was red dawn, bodies get found around without the heads on Judges set bonds that figures they know niggas is dead on What's left of death penalty facilities where niggas step on Wit those that blew trough, go get they body filled wit electrons The tec drawns, the ones that live foul, they're leavin' wet moms Wit lead charms, put her ta bed wit her head drawn Killas wit red palms leavin' bodies cool as the dead fawns Caught in the dead wrong, found they way, ran into the feds arms Yo [Chorus] Cannon fire light up the town I stand my ground and hold the fort down wit the forty pound You bust a round, I bust a round and lay your shorty down On enemy territory grounds ta fall me down Son how that sound? Cannon fire light up the town I stand my ground and hold the fort down wit the forty pound You bust a round, I bust a round and lay your shorty down On enemy territory grounds ta fall me down Son how that sound? [Verse 3] For steady cash flows, niggas'll blast you past the Astros Blow you like afros, the little fast hoes that last all the fast dough They splash foes, red as Tabasco, they lay your asshole where the grass grow Runnin' wit armies like they Castro Them Donny Brasco's get Johnny Doj around they last holes Keepin' em half froze, put in shiny boxes rockin' they last clothes The cash close inside your top pocket of stashed roast Body got found down on the back roads where all the trash blows And broken glass globes, the dip chicks slicker than gastro Who bag a slash blow and spot some top of the block hot as a gas stove That's Mastro's cats in the Astros Who ain't afraid ta let they gats go The paper dash bros lovin' the flash though And pass mo' Stash rolls, count em like math pros And crash low soda, PoPo's don't step all up in they path yo Them cats go, that's smack on the back burner, but keepin' the gas low When task rolls they snatch his ass mows, movin' too ass slow |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
(Talking) whasup girl?, I know that ya man and all but yo, what you see
in that nigga? you need to get with a nigga like me, for real, does he got one of these GS-4's? Navigator system and everything, word up.... Chorus - (Singing) Thats all I wanted, was someone special, someone sacred in my life, Baby won't you be my Daddy Figure...... Verse 1 I regulated you from fake dudes to lake views minks with laced jewels nails, hairdo's and facials placed you in snake shoes did it up right, took the six night seven day cruise the beige creludes your pockets stay full, upgraded you, made me wait too I made you my suede boo, main chick, wifey and Angel put ten Karrots on your wrist, five on your ankle my whole angle, allow you in my triangle to shine and twinkle, eat steak off a platinum single these other cats is rectangles, they sweat bad girls they Bullwinkles, tricks of Rip Van Winkles but now you mingle with a real cat that gets the Pringles and all you gotta be is thankful that we can see the sea food menu's push whips, hit all the venues fly gear sharp as Ginsu's stare at the other pairs of gym shoes as long as you continue, to keep it genu never pretend to, I know its in you the true Mommi, jigged out female Armani with tight Nani, sippin' on Cristal and Donny roll with mad Parmesani pretty the most, no lactose, had to play you close fataly attracted like Glen Close made other men ghost staright overdose of high post you rollin' with me, rich mans wife live your life in luxury, deluxe VP's hologram covered T.Vs 300 E with the CD sip Martini's in Tahiti Jamaican Rum inside the Kiwi play the major leagues, them other cats is pee-wee they see me and you boo, plush cribs in Malibu I'll profile with you, push my whip a mile or two you can have it all 'cause I like the style in you all you gotta do is be real and stay true chill in the Jacuzzi with the G tatoo by ya lap boo we can run around and act fool your Daddy Figure, the one that got love for you kid.... Chorus 2X Verse 2: Yo, we could sip ale on rocks sail on yachts rock the Rolex watch with hail on top boot knock, eat Lobster tail on docks Cristal inside the ice pail dont stop drop top, SEL, cell on lock gift shop, come out of Bloomingdales on cots you think not? you could see though go from Moschino to Tuxedo's as long as you only fuck me though house with the twin gazebo's Ceelo's, with the Champaigne orders by the waters of Puerto Rico peep the live show featuring Tito rockin' your fly Donna's private jet to the Bahamas you still knockin' all the Mommas premadonna on the set mad fly jewels around the neck cut perfect the linen skirt set didn't even flip the long Sable fur yet the iced out burgette with the matchin' purse set five thousand when the Shanelle was purchased strictly for the purpose I stress you to roll with mine lookin' live close from a day old drive, push a five jet ski drive, skooba-dive live not survive, tryin' to keep it alive watch the sun rise, clear blue skies too fly the sunshine got the ice blindin' your eye high priced merchandise shipped over shores seven Karrots out of Paris on the Concord with a fine broad bottle of wine poured bungalos bundles of ones with O's braodway shows, fly condos sweet as Pendinico, Tiger skins Albino live with Tony Bennet on piano, white lacker combo me and you cat, yo, we can see that, you in the new Spider me inside the navy blue Viper with the pipers, covered in some silk fibers millionaire type of wife to, brighten ta life up got you under the wing maybe run you my name everything one and the same your Daddy Figure who adore you spend for you bend for you hurt up other men for you down to bust around for you stick somebody in the ground for you kid, I'll hold it down for you I'll catch a round for you I'll lounge for you you know the deal, I love you to death just keep it real yo..... Chorus 2X |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
Intro/Outro: repeat 2X
Foul cats scheamin up the setup Tryin to leave me and my cream wet up Two in the head, leaded up Call the coroners to make they bed up Infrared shit from neck up Before they got to lit the tec up [Kool G Rap] It was a setup, my nigga got hit, they blew his chest up The hollow tips ripped his vest up, son is messed up and blessed up; call my cast up -- it's time to dress up Four-fifth and Smith-n-Wessed up, ready to press up and fuck their nest up, the enemy is Hennessey to sessed up Actin up, hit my motherfuckin man up Never again will he stand up, yo Big Jan hook the plan up Pull the masks, pull the van up These niggaz tryin to hit the fam up; these small times cats Yo fuck that, I can't see that, where them niggaz be at? Where they hang at? Where they live at? Where they slang at? (Aiyyo Son one is a known cat, he walk around with the chrome gat This hoodrat know where the nigga home at) Well here's a quarter baby, go and phone that This motherfucker bout to get his shit blown back His whole dome clapped, we cock back the gats and started cruisin Up the boulevards and avenues-n, I'm short fusin and two biscuit usin; mad hot but, not in the mood for losin We hit the strip pickin up clues and we on the heels of this nigga shoes and out the blue when, we see the chick the nigga screwin Pushin his whip with the ice cuban Hemmed her up sweet, put heat to her wig piece, the zig piece to this nig's beefs, this bitch named Charise from East New York, listen bitch, you better talk Or get your whole frame surrounded, with white chalk Pulled the rat in back of the van, bitch we don't want you we want your man, you understand? The hoe said, "Please, I got his house keys, the nigga got five keys and mad cheese, a hundred G's" Lie to me bitch you gettin one of these Four-five C's in both knees, she said, "Honestly I promise G I'm not lying," then the hoe started crying We hit the road me and my niggaz flying to the crib in Jackson Heights, the nigga live three flights up He type buck, but I ain't givin a fuck Grab his bitch up, make the hoe go first in case the nigga buck, open the door up, and put the stunt in front Then we all started creepin, he stretched out up on the sofa sleepin, yeah me and my cats standin there just peepin, money's about to get laced My nigga Ty threw a glass of whiskey in his face Big Jan ready to blaze the place; he on his way to Amazing Grace -- nigga woke up and saw the big guns Me and my two sons, he knew he was done You hurt a loved one, step back about to let him have one Yo fuck that, aiyyo black, where the sack of heroin at? I'm bout to give cat some motherfuckin railroad tracks We dumped the whole bag inside a spoon and left the room to heat that, and came right back, yo grab the nigga arm black Put raw shit in the nigga vein, watch the needle drain Went from being restrained to mad 'tane Less than a moment nigga started zonin His mouth foamin, lookin like he posessed by The Omen His bitch was reachin for the phone and, I had to smack her with the chrome and, left her on the floor moanin Cocked back, I had to finish this, know my stee' we leave no witnesses, shot and got the fuck out the premises Outro |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
[Kool G. Rap]
Yo it's a hit, you picked the wrong cat to fuck with The wrong thug kid to buck with, you better duck quick Or get your shit split, with infinite shit, from outta the clip Niggaz is struck with the underworld click Yo it was midnight and rainy and, spotted these three Panamanians Gold chains, and carryin Iranians Pulled out to stain me and, these cats might try to flame me And shit, might be hit sent from this bitch nigga Damien Used to slang 'caine, back to back, up in this game we in Went against the grain when he got banged in his cranium Now he got cats all on my back, tryin to bang me and From Peru, flew in a crew of evil, now shit is lethal Drew the Eagle, blew about two And made one of the two see-through, but I still see two Of his peoples, up in a Regal, and they got heat to equal Shit that got put in Beenie Seagal, fuck these illegal Alien-ass niggaz out of the grass Put extra clips upon the dash and continued to blast Fire flashed, I left another one of em splashed The bloodbath, three niggaz found dead on the ave Went to a phone to hit my nigga Big C, swiftly Yo dig the shit G, these niggaz tried to hit me Yo meet me in about fifty, with Big Ash, be movin quickly I'm about to hit D, put that motherfucker six feet "Aiyyo what happened G?" Niggaz on the ave was clappin at me Bustin at me, tryin to put caps in my nappy "Yo as long as you made it kid I'm happy" We still goin to where this cat be, with AK's all day Called up my nigga Jay, call the nigga Damien for me okay? Make it about 3:38, straight, this is what you say "Aiyyo we fucked up, he got away" If he play, I'ma split his toupee, we on our way To this nigga's office, with armed forces, he showin softness And watchin, horses racin with other bosses Pulled out the torch and, the nigga saw the guns, got stunned He probably got none, knowin he bout to catch a hot one Terrorizin the whole spot son, the phone rung He acted like it was the wrong number, lookin all dumb Hands on the glock spun, five minutes later, the shots rung That nigga got done, died with his hand on a cocked gun Yo it's a hit, you picked the wrong cat to fuck with The wrong thug kid to buck with, you better duck quick Or get your shit split, with infinite shit, from outta the clip Niggaz is struck with the underworld click Yo it's a hit, you picked the wrong cat to fuck with The wrong thug kid to buck with, you better duck quick Or get your shit split, with infinite shit, from outta the clip Niggaz is struck with the underworld click February 14 in '95, time about 4:45 I'm coppin pies in a highrise Dealin with shit like this you need five eyes, dinosaur size These fuckin chi-chi's, have you covered with flies Came in with two wiseguys, fuckin guns big as lifesize Had a chick up on the bed and shit, with the nice thighs Yo senorita, mamasita, wish to plead with boricua cliqua Arriba, flashed the heat now She started talkin, seconds later two Cubans walked in Holdin packages of silver chalk and, shit ain't the raw and Became a war man, he put two in my man's internal organs But for the poison, tryin to fuckin Freemen like Morgan Two hit the floorin, with blood pourin, left em snorin Their wigs tore in, layin all up against the door then The nigga spray, I caught a slug in my shoulder blade My boulder grazed, I'm catchin flashbacks of older days In the small caves, I'm dazed and shit She goin to bed with the spray shit, tryin to lay shit OK bitch, and fuck the gay shit, started to lay shit And left the brave bitch wet, part of her neck and face hit Emptied the clip, then replaced it Niggaz is on the floor tomato pasted Wasted, spirit eras-ted Bonnie cased it, went to the other side, embraced it The whole place is lit, we Scarfacin shit Cigar case and shit, on some marksmen shit One nigga strainin moanin in pain aimin his biscuit My man fixed it, left him with his wig twisted Wipe all my fingerprint ballistics, went to the other room And saw the brick shit, straight legit shit, bag it and zip it Left out the front door like we ain't do shit Yo it's a hit, you picked the wrong cat to fuck with The wrong thug kid to buck with, you better duck quick Or get your shit split, with infinite shit, from outta the clip Niggaz is struck with the underworld click Yo it's a hit, you picked the wrong cat to fuck with The wrong thug kid to buck with, you better duck quick Or get your shit split, with infinite shit, from outta the clip Niggaz is struck with the underworld click |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
[Kool G. Rap]
Yo I come in the form of danger lurkin Blastin the mad streets and merkin Shot at strangers from out the Ranges and Suburbans Curtains for anybody perpin Leave in a hearse for certain Blood on the curb and bandages like turbans We roll a durbin All in this dirt, puffin the herb an' we bring the verbs in Double action's loaded with Germans Area's urban, block's hot where we be swervin Gun fights strike like a serpent People nerves jerkin Lay down any person strictly for just talkin rehearsin The skills remain tight as Holy Mary the Virgin Slowly carry the burden so we varied the shit you heard an' hit you with the different methods and versions; we simply, let bullets rip until the clip is empty Get laid in your tracks as if you was ?? Hit you like Jack Dempsey The mac packin MC, with gats clappin like an M.P. Over your friendly wimpy, frame like an M.D. Blow you until your block's windy Be on short of a shot frenzy My glocks don't stop til the cops hem me Blow holy hollow tops in me Hazardous shit - guns is accurate Sendin niggaz to meet the King of Nazareth Playin me close has a risk I bash clicks like they was massacres Blast the tear gas, thinkin I'm pacifist That's the fifth, one last kiss before your ash is missed These bastards is gettin clapped by the strap at the wrist Chorus: Kool G. Rap (repeat 2X) Yo let the games begin The tec and mac-10 flames begin Thugs to the end, my whole crew insane with sins Hammers to firing pins Me and my kin be makin you spin The Lord or The Devil takin you in [Kool G. Rap] It's the Corona Queens apocalypse My block is hit with the dark eclipse Takin no hostages, so grab the glocks and clips The rap's apostle-ist, niggaz to Loch Ness Large as Colossus is Mumblin shit get shot at the esophagus A Thug Saga novelist Sex in this rap shit monogamous Rainin like the drop is while you be topicless Blow money monopolist - do it for eons Shinin like it's, neon - heart colder than freon Decidin which MC to pee on; baby cause that's the shit that we on Niggaz go to Warrick like Deion Put the G on I analyze guys with Montana eyes to vandalize any man alive, soon as the hammer rise Cut em down like samurais Kickin that real shit that you fantasize Niggaz step aside or recognize G. the real cat, pack the steel cat, baby feel that Leave you layin flat witcha shit clapped and peeled back Battle-actin rap shit'll put you in back of a Cadillac A bad decision; fuck up your whole vision like cataracts Red roses on a dead foe Layin in wet clothes from head blows Your whole brain be exposed Get your body torn out the frame from lead throws None of my victims ever bled slow Stiff as Edgar Poe, that's how it go Chorus |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
Verse 1:
Who macks the most shit? smoke ya whole clique like roach spliffs who's ro's drip enough to hold drifts and float ships? no mo' shifts, I hold enough chips to toast Criss It's G. Rap, the cat thats on your wanted most list I wrote this so you could sweat this and soak this make you lose ya focus with raps stronger than coke is we're crime culprits, put hot shit up in you like posters left for the vultures, we DT's pickin' up cultures three-thousand volt ya just like the thrid rail and if you heard shells a herb fell swift with the words well jakes on my dirt trail kicked up enough dust to hurt cells swerve in SL's, niggas feel me like my shirt's brail curve the jail cell for jakes that wanna H-block those niggas in Paco's keep the blocks froze and the shops closed where the pot grows, young cats coppin' the drop Roves get the Nacho's, and no cops show when the shots blow shit's red hot though, the streets remain flooded with D's bundles of Ki's to maintain a hundred degrees the main crime wave we handle the beef in .9 ways get your mind grazed my teck-nine sprays your spine blades when it gets too hot on the block better believe the rhyme pays put all you cats in cradles if you crave divine ways diamond ??? rays blindin' you with my shine glaze, unlike them other rappers that get stuck in a time phase Chorus - Wanted for ???, major operations, distribution (G. Rap is down with a mafioso posse) Wanted for ??? major operations distribution, rackateerin', prostitution, and paid execution Verse 2: My corporation's body casin', watch where you pacin' thug orchestration, this is live niggas you facin' we paper chasin', for that million baby we lacin' Fifty Caliber gat embracin' leavin' you wit' legs without sensation who's full of malice? what thug's the wildest? act childish and get your body sent to a stylist who live the foulest? be grippin' cannons 'till my hands is kalused pile this paper longer than malice from Ney York to Dallas purchase a palace, sip Collatas with the whole brigata bodies get dropped while I attend the opera land on Casino roofs in Helicopters in Las Vegas Nevada can't stop until I got a Casa up in Trump plaza 929 Mazda, foreign chicks talkin' with accents like they Sza Sza cream like Iri Amin Dada thug saga, slugs burn you like they lava you and ya bimbo get hit up through ya car window creep on your benz slow and let ten blow from out the darkest shadow my aim's straight as an archers arrow I'll spark this barrel hit my target even if the mark is narrow lay you like a pharoah with fragments inside your bone marrow get your wig flown just like a sparrow. Chorus |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
la la la, la la la la
la la la la LA la la la, la la la la la la la la LA [Kool G. Rap] Last night, got caught in a gunfight, I think it was like four niggaz clutchin they burners and bustin but only could see one in sight The one on my right, yo son he like we both got gripe He wanted my life, come at a nigga with a gun and a knife He tryin to make the wiped out nigga layin up under the white But I ain't tryin to go up in no dark tunnel and burn to the light And let myself be one more nigga that just got spun in the night And done in on sight, and tryin to breathe with one in my pipe But I'm not one of the type, and I'd rather lose all hung on the mic Than to be up in the yard receivin CPR at one in the night Now I can run and take fllght, but alright, yo son'll be hyped And I've played mother nature before so yo I'm clappin thunder tonight I step right, inside of the street light, my gun it was bright Send him to kiss Christ, and let my shit slice in front of him twice Let one splice, cause fuckin with price, ain't tryin to be nice I want him on ice, no back home to a son and a wife He tried roll dice with real life and got his buns in a vice Nigga was all enticed to lead his life sheist but none of it's nice I peeped shit, and seen his whole click, was runnin in fright instead of comin to fight, get someone to fight you son of a dykes With one in the pipe, I'm aimin to light the one on the right They all deceased, so yo my asspiece get hunted for life Four niggaz cut down, and I can receive one hundred to life up in a jailcell, that's crawlin with lice and runnin with mice Live trife, fillin appetities with nothin but rice Slow biz and no kid's nigs start runnin my wife Only got one life, yo get this fuckin, gun outta my sight Back at the house, after midnight I'm done for the night |
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from Kool G Rap - Roots Of Evil (2001)
Killers in spanish villas in Sante Fe
Eses all about hammer play Desell Marachi, preferred to watch me It's a Tekilla Sunrise, over the sky Tea rocks in the watch be flaring but hot see Got these from my nigga Vatche How big your blanks be, ain't nothin scot-free I'm ready to cop three, talk to me papi before the shots put out the Nazi's Call off your Rockies Yo pap they cockin back the glocksies Pap had to stop three, two sombreros ready to mop me, drop me, proceeded with the head of the click Bread in their fingertips The sly chick came out with three bricks from out of the V-6, yeah mami like peep this Yeah you got that sweetness This ebony G's to bust open One of the bastard get the heavenly freeze I'm runnin with these Yo hasta luego, amigos And up and away we go before they decide to bring the beef burritos While they count the Fritos I'm makin my way to the G-S-3-oh-oh Big bag of the megalitos, three whole kilos Spot about four vitos with bullet belts filled up with torpedos I'm leavin niggaz tore meat though when I draw heat yo Tryin to leave me dead in the street yo Mami ?? con tigo Showdown at sunset, I'm leavin one wet Slowly I step, my head sweats, my hand on my Tec I die for my respect, let the slugs and bodies connect All for the wreck, gotta support my rep on the set Tekilla Sunrise, my two wives, decides who lives or dies Leavin my rivals, flat on they back facin the sky From out the left, took your last breath, death in disguise With open eyes you dead in the desert, Tekilla Sunrise I'm cockin on low, ready to hurt foes on dirt roads Makin my hand jerk from every burst I gave the first blow Keepin alert though, givin em red glows, givin they shirt holes Three birds'll blow up in the back seat, I swear to God fuck she could've been a model, Coke bottle figure, instead she bent it just like a Desperado, left her hair hollow Two slugs to swallow -- whose next to follow? Some cats behind some cactuses Clappin hazardous, who these niggaz is with low shot averages Bustin right back at they cabbages, givin em flashbacks of baby carriages, this mexican inside this Lex is tryin to crash my shit, drivin reckless Look like he desperate Pulled down the tinted glass and let the Tec spit It's hectic, car flew in bodega with his neck hit Body and head was seperate, totally disconnected Bust back two shots at ones that standin with cannons up on the rooftops that drew glocks, but my 20/20 spot em for two blocks I'm wettin shit like it's rainfall they doin dew drops Two more shots came out saloon doors I'm blowin shit up like platoon wars Hesitations I got no room for Assume sure, the head honcho was bullet wounds bored Out in the dusty sand, gun was still in his hand Kicked the can when shit hit the fan Fuckin around with this G Rap the Hitman "This is Mary White reporting live from the town of Seenalojo, Me-xi-co, where there are dead bodies LITTERING THE STREETS. Details remain sketchy at thr moment but -- this appears to be a drug deal gone bad. Mexican authorities have just arrived on the HIDEOUS scene and will be issuing a statement shortly. This is Mary White reporting live from the town of Seenalojo, Me-xi-co. Back to you DICK." Showdown at sunset, I'm leavin one wet Slowly I step, my head sweats, my hand on my Tec I die for my respect, let the slugs and bodies connect All for the wreck, gotta support my rep on the set Tekilla Sunrise, my two wives, decides who lives or dies Leavin my rivals, flat on they back facin the sky From out the left, took your last breath, death in disguise With open eyes you dead in the desert, Tekilla Sunrise |
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| from X-Ecutioners - Built From Scratch (2002) | |||||
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4:39 |
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| from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002) | |||||
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4:34 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[Kool G Rap] (Yo!! G Rap nigga) See y'all thought it was a game right? Like y'all ain't know this was gon' happen? (Jinx Da Juvy) We {*censored*} for life, we known for holdin it down Gun brawls, hand to hand combat, whatever (word) We ain't havin none of that, you heard? (word) [Chorus: G Rap + Juvy] [Kool] If you about dough, we can get paid wit y'all [Jinx] Wanna ball out, we can get laid wit y'all [Kool] You got beef? We can draw heat and blaze wit y'all [Jinx] Get locked up, sharpen up the blades wit y'all [Kool] You wanna smokeout, blow the purple haze wit y'all [Jinx] You wanna show out, spend money for days wit y'all [Kool] You wanna do dirt, keep it in the shade wit y'all [Jinx] You wanna act up, pull out guns and spray it at y'all! [Kool G Rap] This one goes out to my Queens thugs, that steam slugs My real killers out on the corner that's seen blood My wild niggaz schemin with snubs, fiendin for grub Eatin off the streets, triple-beamin the drugs The ones that put a red beam in your mug The ones that bug and be in the clubs and hide whips, gleamin with dubs This one goes out to my peoples that hit the hot blocks to cop the diesel in back of the spots but chop on the lethal Then pop goes the weasel If niggaz want it, then pop goes the eagles We can draw guns and rock like The Beatles Drop pots of evil, ghetto D with shots from a needle Lay you down with shots that are cerebral Before rap, my click was hot as Segal, now we clock legal Hop like Kenieval, pass the cops in our Regals Above blowin like diplomats, me and my click of cats Duck when we spit the gat or get your shit twisted back [Chorus] [Jinx Da Juvy] That young fella straight from the slums and that's that Got kicked out of school cause I used to carry guns in my knapsack Been a serious dude, never the one to laugh at So play crazy and this 380'll twist your cap back Before rap, I played the slums where the cash at Duckin the boys in blue, with jumps in asscrack Now I switched over, but still tote the big toaster for niggaz schemin so I'm fiendin to bend your wig over You might catch the kid herbed out, bent over Without a license, gettin brain in a tint Rover But not for nuttin, a frontin dude get popped for frontin Y'all the type to snitch when a cop's comin But that don't stop nuttin cause trust me the cop's duckin A badge don't mean shit, when the glocks is gunnin And I don't think the pig's tryin to get, popped in the stomach Or be worse, layin with they wig hotter than the oven [Chorus] [Kool G Rap] G Rap as real as it gets, peel with the fifth Bust down a mill' with the click, ill with the chicks Wheelin the 6 to cribs on hills in the sticks Metal we pack is heavy you can feel when it spit Used ta, reel in the chips, slangin krills on the strip Now we, spillin the Crist', niggaz still with the hits Won't stop until I cop a half-a-mill' for the wrist Rule with a iron fist but still in the midst G Rap and his squad of guerillas, carve your grill up Harsh killer hold the hammer like 20 bar villains Spit flames like Godzilla, menage-a-trois in large villas Pack the trey-pound God pealer It's a hard thriller mob chiller Decide your fate like a Tarot card dealer Y'all niggaz is yard squealers; play around and be a scar feeler A shot down man on the tar feeler chick witchu the gem star spiller [Chorus] [Kool G Rap] What? (G Rap nigga) Black {*censored*} fam baby, uhh (Jinx Da Juvy) The new milleny niggaz, knahmean? 2000 shit Here to rule shit All y'all weak niggaz fall back Brrrap! Brrrap! Get the fuck out of here |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
Eh-body always wanna know what know what the G In Kool G Rap stand for, Giancana nigga, gangsta Quick to gank ya ass with the Gaincana gash gash You heard [Kool G Rap] Yo here come the one who's know to keep it thoro, Queens the borough (straight up) Is live nigga rep that (no doubt) Cock the techs back and move on a weak clique (move on 'em) We deep bitch And none of my Gorillas is scared to leak shit All y'all niggas wanna speak slick -what you say- (what) It couldn't be thick and quick to flied'em dicks As soon as the heat spit Stitch your fucking feet to a brick Enjoy then bait Heats to chicks we creep when we flip gyms Cana baby thug for life are love is life Guns, hoes, drugs and ice꿢ight How your heart pump kool-aid when is brood and mice How you trying to fight slugs with knives (don't do that) bitch nigga Liquor (don't do that) plenty gun talk front for New York And went to draw a stick figure (ha, ha) Bounty your head for 'bout six figures, cook a bitch liver End of the wall who lift the fifth quicker nigga (you know me) My whole approach sicker So all you rappers with names hot as flames I'll be there when the shit flicker (get'em) This ones about war gunslinger (get'em) And brick flipper big dick don G rap nigga piss rivers [Chorus] Drama, is the life I live Bossing, is the things I did Problems, is the things I finish I been known from hood to hood to handle business Money, is them things I take Ladies, come on and bounce with me G Rap, I damn from far from fake Throw your steel in the air if you' bout your cake [Kool G Rap] Ayo my whole life is under non-fiction Drama friction Beef blood in the street bullets with bombs ticking Just to become a don from sinning Horrible living G Cana the street boss peoples loss Left a dog reap in the cost Had to go deep in the forest To hold police frost peeping the floss Conduct family biz have my own Sammidy Sam kids And pump fizz were you live (o뻩w) Run up in a house and put a hand on a wiz Give me fifty grand to live (Bitch) G Rap Americas Most see the name embedded in toast I'm here to all y'all niggas perish and quote We lost money but cherish the dope Meat cleavers sever your throat The smoke, for the big bread and the a boat So all you guys with gimmicks (die, die, die) Skies the limit better believe it That I'm gonna ride every minute And this games about posh and spinach And the lifer this shit get the love for menace Never violate the lines of scrimmage G Rap Giancana kid I'm vow to keep it life to the finish (uh-hu) yeah [Chorus] Drama, is the life I live Bossing, is the things I did Problems, is the things I finish I been known from hood to hood to handle business Money, is them things I take Ladies, come on and bounce with me G Rap, I damn from far from fake Throw your steel in the air if you' bout your cake If you 'bout your cake If you 'bout your cake All about that cake Yeah, Giancana, mob boss nigga, what uh |
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3:39 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
Get 'em up now Ladies, get 'em up now Niggas, get 'em up, get 'em up, get 'em up, get 'em up, get 'em up now The killas, the dealers, get 'em up now My Gorillas, get 'em up now Get 'em up, get 'em up, get 'em up, get 'em up now (Background): feeling like coming through [Kool G Rap] Yo somebody wanna Giancana mark for death What a hard test spark your best Better aim for the heart and chest stay sharp when you park the Lex Twenty police better guard your rest laying down for gods to bless Sixteen ain't hard to catch, think you could dodge the rest? I was coming to you, hard to guess? What nigga hot better not nod the rest In the front yard a mess should of rocked a larger vest Wifey and ma' depress news impress mob the rest This sketch like an architect We march whit techs (background: march whit techs) Gorilla to death nigga start to rep (background: start to rep) Break a thug nigga with a hearts of vets (background: hearts of vets) Shoot 'em in the wrist lost Bagguetts Got a trade pound god depress one tattoo scar a flesh If I ain't dead up ion the harbor wet Read the beam with a flash of light kid blast to the afterlife Lift off to the traffic light Come through a nigga money better have it right Kid never do a bid I'ma pass the kite Somebody get slashed tonight (huh) Splash top the casket right [Chorus: Shaqueen] (repeat 2x) Got up in the club now play the wall, get 'em up now Somebody wanna act up start the brawl, get 'em up now My whole clique ain't afraid at all Bust my guns (get 'em up) at all of y'all, get 'em up now You gotta go down now for the team, get 'em up now Run for the front door duck the beam, get 'em up now Punk all bloody shake the scene Say what you(get 'em up) want don't touch the cream get 'em up now [Kool G Rap] Yall know G Rap got it lock down Whole clique put a lot down get found with a hot round Duck down when I pop the pound Only one brick gotta chop it down paper get low gotta hop the town Nigga wanna front got a drop the clown Why you looking sad bitch stop the frown Baby look good got a cop it down All up in the shook up walls knock 'em down Black Gorilla fam we got the sound See my nigga Primo cop the brown Hope ain't no cops around Click up hit the club with the big bucks Chips up fifth tuck drive with a wrist up Hit the bar by the cryst shop Drink hard till I piss up Hiccup bounce out with a big truck Chicks to fuck take 'em home dick 'em up And I went to get my shit suck Chick rider and I picks 'em up Dump 'em often fix 'em up Wanna blow trees here twist 'em up Wanna drink champagne get your cup Let the whole family hit you up Won't stop till I am rich as fuck, keep it coming y'all [Chorus] What you going to do when my niggas come for you Better duck and hide don't you know that ass is through Leave you f-ing that's the way we lay our game down Is evident we don't fuck around Play the wall, get 'em up now Start the brawl, get 'em up now get 'em up get 'em up now 'Fraid at all All of y'all get 'em up get 'em up now See the team, get 'em up now Duck the beam, get 'em up now Shake the scene get 'em up get 'em up Touch the cream, get 'em up now (Repeat Twice) |
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3:32 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[female Black Guerilla Fam member] What, nigga, Black {*censored*} Fam Y'all don't fuckin want it, you heard Listen up Bitch either ride or collide with me, this side right You don't wanna wait 'til the end of the night to step outside wit me You know the history of the guys with me? Extortion, kidnappin Murder in the first, niggaz live to die Hungry and they bloodthirst, my Dunn guns the worst We can get it to poppin off like July the 4th On any day of the month bitch we get it to jump Black {*censored*} Fam, my niggaz ain't scared to dump So what the fuck you want beef for, you squeamish Start to hyperventilate you see a nigga start to hemorrhage {*censored*} Fam don't start shit, we regret the finish Bitch nigga, we really live this, we mean business We even got teachers in the school where your kids is Nannies inside where your cribs is Beautician doin hair where you Wiz is Black {*censored*}, secret society bitch You get found with the fishes [Kool G Rap] Aiyyo, who wanna know about the life story, it's like Corle's Blood all over the nice Mauries Stutterin bitch, who you know spit more gutter than this? Smack a nigga with the butt of the fifth We guerillas and thugs in the midst Was cold before I flooded the wrist Big heist shit, blood on the bricks Bag it up, bubble the strip One days work, a couple of whips .. then more than double the chips Supreme Queens nigga with a BK click You just a weak fake bitches whatever nigga the heat spray quick Y'all niggaz can't do shit but peep the gray wrist CGP in the face of your chick, comin f'real with it Bring the cattle to the battlefield, we'll still spit it No matter who the fuck you are, you can still get it Count that off as a loss, go 'head and peal wit it Far as your corny-ass click, they gotta deal wit it [Chorus: Black Guerilla Fam] We the Black {*censored*} gangsta click (gangsta gangsta) Put your hands to the streets for this gangsta shit (gangsta gangsta) You a nigga or a bitch keep it gangsta kid (gangsta gangsta) Black {*censored*} Fam, you know how these fuckin gangstas get [male Black Guerilla Fam member] Aiyyo sex money and drugs, that's my life Shrimp shooter with the red light, that's my wife Bitch prism on the late night, that's my type of hustle Shit make dough, that's my bubble No one's project beef, that's my struggle I never been shot - that blood there, that's your puddle Who the fuck wanna fire at me? For every shot a nigga shoot, my mac-11 firin three You got wars, nores, lazy {?} Et cetera, Black {*censored*} Fam, we bang harder Bandana Montana streetsweep carver Shots connect, your bones I disconnect Bring your skull back home like I bone collect One year under dirt you'll be bones in bed Tasmania, Brooklyn - that's my set Stop screamin out Guerilla 'fore I break yo' neck [another male member] I dare anybody play like Laze Mike Not blaze like half of your block in broad daylight Take flight to Queens with your fake ice Pull you out the back of the trunk and put your face in the brake light You six deep, so what? Me I'm by myself But you know what? I cut one of y'all real bad Pops is my pops but my moms my real dad You runnin round with the same heart that Steel had I'm the best, I don't give a fuck who said so Have you dopefiend like Lazy, let go Don't get your head gassed off my nice chain, word to my mother I done lost half your life in a dice game I don't brag shit, I'm a hustler; I don't wanna be seen I want the green the fame shit is for suckers I'm a Guerilla, so it ain't nuttin to touch ya Bitch nigga recognize that or learn to suffer |
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4:13 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[Chorus: Kool G Rap] Only the good soldiers die young To stay alive up in these streets you gotsta fly one Fore the flamers make you famous aimin to ply one Niggaz is dyin over pie crumbs, the live ones (Only the good die young) Only the good soldiers die young Over chips they'll leave you drippin witcha side numb Come out the fort with your torches up and ride Dunn No one survives with a shy gun inside slums (Only the good die young) [Kool G Rap] The bullies are back Gettin the news that's tragic, feuds are graphic Moves through the traffic Break any rules you lose your attic Who's in the habit of usin the static Make somethin ooze out your cabbage When dudes with ratchets, can pay your dues Stools on the mattress, bruised and battered Blown out your shoes and your fabrics With Jakes searchin for clues and maggots My crew is savage, we carry no dead weight Bet they hide you when I slide kid All my tools is packaged, and lose you faggots Stay coppin them jewels with karats, so who's the rabbit Trix are for kids, in the buggy eye 6 on the strip Strictly for big wigs, so tell me what this is A nigga that's bout his biz, a nigga that don't forgive A nigga that don't renege, a nigga that bust a cig, rupture your ribs Front and I'll bring it to you 'xactly where you live BGF surround the crib, throw a pound to the kid Hit a fry when the good die young [Chorus] [Kool G Rap] Yo it's a whole city of animals Cannibals, bloodthirsty niggaz that hammer you and handle you, shots makin you flammable That's what an evil man's plan'll do Vandal you, candle you, dismantle you Leavin your fam and crew, pan a few blocks Bodies in camera view, for a grand or two Land you on channel two When niggaz can't eat, that's what the fam'll do Leave you for the mantle, examine you For the van to come transfer you Too late to bandage you, too much damage to you The coroners know how to manage you Down in they land they planted you That's what the cannons do, forever branded you Spare cannoned you, abandoned you, rock you to sleep Niggaz surrounded you, death wish granted you, fan at you Went to my hundred shot clip when they flip & throw a grand at you Peel your shit open like a can of brew Then they work from the mandible, havin you livin where the salmon do The good die young, redrum, who left to take a stand for you [Chorus] [Kool G Rap] You ock a hot bet (?) and catch a popped vessel And shot vestibule; you got testicles Beef bring a nigga get shot visible Rock with the best of you; then it's back to the block The blacktops we open up shop and clock decimals Fake cops, scrape from the teeth hot for residue The foul slang liver(?) page, reach for that shit on your waist Every killer in the place get hit in the face Turn around, simmer down nigga, get in the safe What you fear when the shots is blowin; shed a tear for the one that caught one under the ear inside of his top popped open It's death for all niggaz that left with the glock smokin Came in with hot toast and left the whole spot soakin Fuck y'all niggaz not knowin, we make your seeds stop growin Guerilla nigga, we keep rhymes flowin Bust a four pound, man down, found in the lot swollen Drama brung, all inside the slum, the good die young |
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5:23 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[AZ]
Yeah.. it's 2G Brooklyn-Queens connection Y'all bout to feel somethin, y'all never felt before Aiyyo G, you know I'm like a trey-eight special I'm close range Fuckin with you I gotta get AK material, banana clip style Let's do this, let's do this [Tito] Blow the spot like tea kettle whistles Federal slugs, the lead'll kiss you Infrared burners'll never miss you All digital, hard physical, spittle you riddle you Priest prayin over your body while you in critical Come in a few, give out a doz this what the semi do See what the Henny and Rémy do BGF, Black Gorilla Family jet, Black Godfather finesse Fifty caliber hole surroundin your chest Bentley blue steel armored cars with boulder baguettes We live in effect, blaze a gun while poppin a Tec Recognize killers, nigga, pop a collar to that Gorilla breed to the death, that's the shit that I rep Code of silence, addicted to havin fattened the violence AK-47 rapidly firin, got love for bloodshed and the sirens Take banana clips to my gun, to keep my shit off balance My heart filled with malice [Chorus: Kool G Rap - repeat 2X] Yo, if you livin thug, holla back (Holla back) My bitches strippin in the clubs, let the dollars stack (Let em stack y'all) This one's for all my OG's and street scholar cats (All my street cats) And if a nigga act up, funeral parlor cat Pop a collar to that (Pop a collar to that) [Nawz] Yo, wavin cash, gun in the stash, the click on smash From rockets that blast, yo we in your pockets for cash Burgundy mask, bullets like a surgery slash Internally burn your staff and dismember your ass Coroners bag from autops' to medical lab I leave you leakin like Carlito watch your memory flash Quicksand for fam, tied a fuckin brick to your hands I'm sicker with the Henny liquor with the clip to your man When it's on it's on, do your moms bodily harm Firstborn'll be your first gone, beef goes on Permanent cash, put you in the tourniquet fast Feed you glass and use you to fertilize the grass Puff green when we fiendin to murder ya whole team For cream, the infrared beams'll shatter your dreams I flatter your queen and rip her right out of her jeans Intervene and it's the homicide scene for your team [Chorus] [AZ] From hideous acts on the one gettin rid of the gats A nigga back, no parole, now how pretty is that? The city is trapped, bottles popped, Phillies is cracked Niggaz is strapped, half bent, illin, spillin they 'gnac Cars tinted, my rap image too large to mimmick We mob in it, fake niggaz dissolve in minutes It's codes to it, real killers they know music Even hoes on the low at the shows lose it Courvoisier-sippin, this slim nigga stay flippin My ways different, duck when the AK spittin It's more to it, verbal wisely, all fluent In real life this is how the dogs do it Double-edged sword, rep for y'all seein the board See y'all home soon, it's better than seein the morgue So what's the conflict, who wanna Don with this? For the streets strictly we got the bombest shit [Chorus] [Kool G Rap] Two violent niggaz sit at the round table, in brown sables Chains hangin down to the navel Brooklyn and Queens connect get down fatal Hold the four-pound stable Won't hesitate to rock a clown's cradle Get put in the dirt like ground cable Found from bloodhound nasals Or deep in the river get found naval That shit y'all spit sound fable "American Me" style, knife in the anal; who 'round to save you? I leave you from waist down disabled Face split like a round bagel Found in a hospital gown witcha crown stapled Wrong one to tangle with, a gym star, spangle your shit Use your handkerchief to strangle your bitch Single niggaz out on the strip and bang in a clip Slugs from a Desert Eagle mingle the click A force of habit, for me to let it rip across your attic Never violent with a silent but I toss your cabbage [Chorus] (Beotch!) |
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2:34 |
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| from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002) | |||||
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4:04 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[Chorus: G-Wise * vocoder] All of my life, I live I'll be thuggin with youuuuuuu Rock it out baby, knock it out baby Won't stop 'til I die for this I'll be keepin it trueeeeeee Yeah yeah yeah yeah [Capone] I speak on phones in Kohl's, my shit stay tapped Like Gregory Hines, wild since seventy-nine I'm federal time, still an enemy of the state They had to beat the murder case back in eighty-eight (tell 'em bout it) Judge Hoffman gave fifteen to Q-God's Started riots in the jungle like the Rodney King charges In L.A., what up essa? (whaddup) I spray tre' pounds (yeahhhh) To nueva, I'm loco nigga (loco) I'm the one that made attempts on the popo bigger I put crazy work in, (that's right) fuck who criticize my verses I only rap, cuz the streets is sour The money is good and I couldn't find sheets for powder I could get on some bullshit, (on some bullshit) y'all niggaz understand me? I keep heat like Miami, fry for family (what? fry for family) Rubbing tat for infanity, I curse the game Menace to Society like O-Dog and Kane (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) [Chorus: G-Wise * vocoder] All of my life, I live I'll be thuggin with youuuuuuu Rock it out baby, knock it out baby Won't stop 'til I die for this I'll be keepin it trueeeeeee Yeah yeah yeah yeah [N.O.R.E.] Yo, yo It's mafia ties, rules, let 'em fuck each other's wives Niggaz is real stupid and they think like chicks They was dealing with ounce money 'til I bought the bricks I done walked through the valley of the shadow of death (yeahhhh) And smoked cigarettes, constant, step for step (oh yeah) Island-style, four-bill and mop your neck I got the bandana, see, it's already a "B" I'm like Santana from American ME They call me D.A.N. - Dead All Nore (D.A.N. - Dead All Noreeeee) And I got guns, y'all ain't got nothin for me Fuck the popo, cuz niggaz don't leave no prints (prints) Niggaz gave me a brick and ain't seen me since (yeahhhh) Now I'm out the game like Kane and them And now niggaz want me, I ain't blamin them I got guns that stretch south, macs and tecs out I big'd up, copped the five, fuck a six, what!? (ohhhh oh oh) [Chorus: G-Wise * vocoder] All of my life, I live I'll be thuggin with youuuuuuu Rock it out baby, knock it out baby Won't stop 'til I die for this I'll be keepin it trueeeeeee Yeah yeah yeah yeah [Kool G. Rap] All of my life, uh-huh uh-huh Nigga into warm mansion rooms, wall to wall with handsome goons Half-naked bitches dancin to tunes (uh-huh) Marble floor to the terrace nigga, glance at the moon Play the jacuzzi 'til your hands get blue Rugs tight, bright as the white sands of Cancun (yeahhhh) Skylights up in the ceilings for the plants to bloom Nigga we crop grams in dunes, Cuban cigar brand of grandest fumes Prison niggaz that ran balloons Shut down shop from Jan. to June, and still cop land in the boons Fuck women in tanning rooms Every last fingernail on their hand groomed, self built do Down to the mink pelts, gator belts and silk suit If I can't stack a nigga cap get peeled loose Word to them cats that died on the street, it's spilled juice So where that Don be? In the calm breeze in the palm trees Bomb G under the armpiece (yeahhhh) Livin in harmony, coke farm pharmacy Bulletproof armory, school of the hard knock honory Washin the jackpot like laundry Fuckin Don of the year nominee, honestly (All of my...) [Chorus: G-Wise * vocoder 2x] All of my life, I live I'll be thuggin with youuuuuuu Rock it out baby, knock it out baby Won't stop 'til I die for this I'll be keepin it trueeeeeee Yeah yeah yeah yeah [G-Wise * vocoder - two voices at once] Life, we spend, someone - know someone We spend, (yeah) we spend... And what about - where you come from (where you come from, where you) What about - You will get up on-on... My life, my life, my life [Kool G. Rap] What.. uh...uh-huh Yeah, thug shit, Queens clicks |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[G-Wise * vocoder box effect]
Yeahhh, yeh yeh - G. Rap that's gangsta (my life nigga) [Chorus: G-Wise * vocoder] All of my life, I live I'll be thuggin with youuuuuuu Thug it out baby, thug it out baby Don't stop 'til I die for this I'll be keepin it trueeeeeee Yeah yeah yeah yeah [Kool G. Rap] Yo, yo Giancanna the name break it down simple and plain Went from a small chimp in the game to gorilla king pimpin the game Know how to tempt dames to tense in the Range Hit the block to pitch rocks, the strength of the name Limp with a cane, lactosin limp for the king We even pack toast expend from the flames, my aim Strictly about makin that bread pop (y'know) blocks red hot from feds and cops, lookin for rock bottles with red tops Tradin lead shots with dreadlocks Infrared dots 'til their head drop, we fled spots Word on the curb is when it came to birds we spread flocks (no doubt) No tellin when the bloodshed stop, glide 'til the sled stop Copped the latest every hot flavor in them crocs and gators Somebody clique riff, pop the bravest Out of town trips in whips I got from Avis, drop knots in Vegas My plot for paper was crockpots of wafers [Chorus] [Kool G. Rap] Nigga into warm mansion rooms, wall to wall with handsome goons Half-naked bitches dancin to tunes (uh-huh) Marble floor to the terrace nigga, glance at the moon Play the jacuzzi 'til your hands get blue Rugs tight, bright as the white sands of Cancun [yeahhhh] Skylights up in the ceilings for the plants to bloom Nigga we crop grams in dunes, Cuban cigar brand of grandest fumes Prison niggaz that ran balloons Shut down shop from Jan. to June, and still cop land in the boons Fuck women in tanning rooms Every last fingernail on their hand groomed, self built do Down to the mink pelts, gator belts and silk suit If I can't stack a nigga cap get peeled loose Word to them cats that died on the street, it's spilled juice So where that Don be? (right here) In the calm breeze in the palm trees Bomb G under the armpiece Livin in harmony, coke farm pharmacy Bulletproof armory, school of the hard knock honory Washin the jackpot like laundry Fuckin Don of the year nominee, honestly [Chorus] - repeat 2X [G-Wise * vocoder box in background to fade] [Kool G. Rap] G. Rap nigga.. What, thug shit, Queens clicks What.. uh-huh Yeah, thug shit, Queens clicks Thug shit, Queens clicks Uhh.. yeah |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
(Chorus) The streets, yo where it happen at The streets, is where they clapping at The streets, is where the action at The streets, is where they packing at The streets, is where its cracking at The streets, bringing it back to that The streets, banging ya gat to that The streets, start hanging back to that [Kool G. Rap] My niggas ride where they bust at Die where they bust at my murderous guys Slinging them pies where they lust at Or corners where they hang most Name boast and bank toast Drive with the thing close Slide with a James post Empty clips is on now Coke fiends are strung out Broke niggas bum out Jakes holdin they gun out When back streets are taped up Bodies laying faced up Cats running with ace up The spots get 'em paced up The street lamps are broke now Mad bitches to bone now When niggas peep your home out And flip when they zoned out Thugs bringing the street war Bust shots let the heat roar Taking trips to be more With bricks up in to fiend off The towns where they spray shit Bust rounds and lay shit Selling pounds' a great shit And clowns get their face-lift Spots where gats pop off Shots clear the block off Slugs knock your block off And have you licking hot sauce (Chorus) On the corners where the dice roll And clubs where the ice glow The lames get their life stole And bleed from a knife fold Niggas laying they law down Some draw with a four-pound PJ's are tore down Thoughts of laying hos down (The streets) Blocks where they lick shots And rock what the fifth cocked Kids cop the six drop From brick box and zip locks Towns where niggas kill at Posting where it's real at Keeping gats concealed at See a foe you peel at Strip where you get ripped off Hot lead get licked off Fronting and your clicks off All your jewels get stripped off Sidewalks where they creep up Get locked up with a street bop Kids running with heats up Lifting both of your feets up Niggas they let their guns loose They wild guns loose Gat up under the chin Blow a niggas shit through the sunroof Decide where they pack nines The chrome gat shines You try to clap mine You outta line niggas get flat lined (Chorus) Now Chickens a get your crew laced For rocks and a blue face Niggas giving they screwface For the loot and the suitcase Spots that blood spills on And dealers clock a 'mil on Murderers get their kill on Mad cash is ill-on Beef turning to combat For life so they pump gats Little kids they harm that Put bombs where your moms at Niggas tied up and kidnapped And smacked up with big gats Get found with they wig cracked Leave 'em right where they live at (The streets) Running for red beams Blood flowing in red streets Mad fellas with bread schemes Running from the FED team Little shorties are knocked up Straight giving their crouch up Juveniles decide to pee now with they ox up Crack blocks and weed spots The fiends up in the Detox Some rollin in three drops Others aint gotta beep bop Bitches that get their hoe on Smoke dope on and so on Spotted nigga with glow on With dick they could blow on (Chorus) 2x (Talking) (No doubt) Don G Rap, Gianana ? (Blanked out) Igloo Entertainment No doubt we coming through ya know how we do Keep it moving ya better realize Whoever don't Guns do it for us Niggas aint playing no games Y'all know the routines Y'all know the drill |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[Kool G Rap]
We bring the thug shit for real nigga You know how we do Y'all know how a nigga bring it Straight direct at you kid Like a Don from out of Sicily; under the arm is where the pistol be Top of your forehead, the kiss'll be planted ever so soft and gentle but die viciously Hours of torture, before the torture apply misery Days before I feel pity to give a guy liberty Seen him, his pants shitty and eyes all glittery I'll die a rich man before the FBI figure me 40 stories up, inside a high rise in Italy No hidden forces, only natural courses deliver me Gray hairs from the great years, fears never shiver me Reminscin, how we car-bombed ignitions of politicians, judges strong-armed to listen Men turnin up dead, or hurt harmed and missin Bulletproof cars are driven, Teflon edition Bodies cut up in large chunks, thrown in car trunks Music inside the bar stunk Gettin surrounded by bitches blowin cigars drunk One of my stonefaced goons'll make your heart pump Electrocution with cables that make the car jump The yard punks, that sinned with a life sentence for sellin hard junk The family, the whole commission Has been around since the days before prohibition (no doubt) Mathematics was good then, the slow addition Some overdosed down a coke slope, a dope addicition Lookin back on them days, I ran a whole division Some of the Jake and the state was tryin to throw the mission They caught a ticket ride to hell with no admission; beyond these tracks A life of networkin, sippin bourbon and co-gnac First version observin in stocks and bonds we stack The chronicles, these are the days of Don G Rap [Havoc] With, murder on his mind, take it in blood We takin that aim, and niggaz throwin shit in the game [Chorus: Havoc - repeat 2X] How it feel when we comin at you, these gats blowin at you Personally, don't give a FUCK where you at And an unfamiliar face, you know we like WHO DAT? On point nigga, it ain't goin down like that [Kool G Rap] We do our thing, underhandedly still, tuck a mill' For the family will, mansion and hot wheels in Amityville Treat a snitch nigga like Sam when he squeal Break the code of silence, just hand me the steel For every wrong done, a man'll be killed, there's plans to rebuild Curtains and drapes, got these Jakes tryin to can me for real Until then, be in the backyard with clam on the grill Or catch me laid up in the canope ill With two mamis handin me thrills; Vivica Fox body Vanity grills Rubberbandin these bills; tryin to duck the fame and the glamour Tryin to stay from out the range of the scanners Not tryin to get my frame in the camera Avoid tabloids and front pages Bums get knocked off and bumped for favors Collect Trump papers with pumps and gauges Royale suites when I bunk in Vegas Got homicide searchin the city dump for neighbors Pinky ring with a chunk of glacier Copped a spot with a bunch of acres Some of them got they bodies slumped for capers Barcaleno hat, ducks and gators Got a crib full of housemaids, butlers and waiters My click, from the minor league jump to major We gon' rock until we jackpot, FUCK THEM HATERS If we have to run up in City Hall, abduct the Mayor Any man against the master plan can fuck with craters! [Chorus] - repeat 1.5X [Havoc] Word |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[Intro/Chorus] I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me I pop off guns and live dangerously I'm lot more nigga than you aimin to be My Range bling, platty chain hang to the knee I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me [Verse One] Aiyyo, who got the drop, my gun been cocked Spits from four-fives to flintlocks, pinky finger with the pimp rock Hustle on dim blocks and sip Henn-rock Draw quick, got a second hand like Big Ben clock (ya heard?) Reach for that heat, put your wig in the wind pop Fill your belly with ten shots; if I get hit and you see blood then flood the bullet wound with gin shots Put beef in a Slim Jim box Bitch you wanna pinch and win slot Clap lead until your big friend drop Niggaz'll front until I send chin shots Beat the rock until they send cops (or what?) 'Til one of us'll get carried out on the thin cot Emergency room skin chopped by ten docs Got it locked like a bid in the state pen box When I dares peers hangin to where my shin stop; before I struck rich Fucked bitches and killed 'em with a ten inch cock (f'real) Bitch nigga stuck him with a ten inch ock (y'know?) Bread bloods and stiff vodka, deep in this game Know the feds want the clique locked up We love brain so we headhunt like witchdoctors My lil' momma let lead dump from big poppa Even the Jake surrounded the spread with pig choppers that taste preposterous; tear gas, tanks of oxygen Like we in banks with hostages (what we want?) All we want is minks and ostriches (what?) Diamond cuff links and proper shit Snitches left stinkin in carpet stiff Or get they carcasses turned to link sausages (f'real) Ain't nuttin sweet, we known for bangin cartridges We got the heart for this No matter how light or dark it is (ya heard?) (No matter how light or dark it is, f'real) Thug for life (what?) Rep by strips (killers) Let loose clips (dealers) Stack mad chips (you know we) Bag bad chicks (my niggaz) Push fly whips (all of the) Hoes blow dick (nigga) G flows sick (what?) [Chorus] [Verse Two] My whole life about chrome rims and stone gems (what?) Big boned skins, Capone brims, dick blown in my own Benz Quick to Scarface thugs who raise up blown brims Dolla trickin never politickin with grown mens Ideas of settin me up for loot I won't bend Just make that light bulb at the top of your dome dim (uh-huh) Who rap-happy nigga keep the lyrics and poems grim Get found at the bottom of the river with stone Timbs (word) Babyface, swimmin flash stomach and toned limbs Wake up every mornin work out in the home gym Reppin this rap game until my zone ends (uh-huh) 'Til mixin boards melt down, the microphone bend (yea) I spit about street shit but never condone sin Kept it thug for life baby followed my own trend [Chorus] Kid!! Word.. thug shit Queens shit for life nigga |
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3:53 |
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from Kool G Rap - The Giancana Story (2002)
[ CHORUS ] [ Kool G Rap ] Yo, if you make a lotta cream and don't share them stacks [ Prodigy ] Yeah, it ain't where you from, it's where you at I know a lotta niggas that'll tear your back [ Kool G Rap ] It ain't where you from, kid, it's where you at [ Prodigy ] Listen, if you goin out of town and don't bear them gats [ Kool G Rap ] It ain't where you from, kid, it's where you at If you caught up in a beef and you scared to clap [ Prodigy ] Dogs, it ain't where you from, it's where you at [ VERSE 1: Kool G Rap ] Shit, thug listen (What up baby?) Ain't nothin 'round here but drug addiction Niggas is anti-love-livin The slug-givin little shortie on the snub itchin For beef, he might get left in the street with his blood drippin The poor niggas sling crack, real raw niggas that bang gats Crazy lady jumped on the train tracks Know if you owe somebody dough you better bring that Them kids is live, put five where your brain at You walk the streets of the slums Know to spot beef when it come Reach for the guns or feel the heat from the ones Never know who your killer be (Yeah, speak to no one) Just put a Desert Eagle beak in his lung Leak em and run, some guys light the blunts up (And then what?) And then go ride with the pumps up Chopped up bitch inside of a dumpster Paramedics tryin to speed a nigga pulse up (Yo, he's a cold blue) victim of the vultures Block sizzlin hot, flooded in the middle with cops Innocent nigga topped, riddled with shots Kids up in rock spots clock knots, fiddle with glocks Ready to die for what little they got Tricks, hoes and thugs (That's right) The ones that put holes in mugs Waitin outside for them ones that pose in clubs To that strange nigga knockin on your do' with gloves Let the .44 blow for grub, it's no love [ CHORUS ] [ VERSE 2: Prodigy ] You got uniformed cops, the D's when it's hot TNT knockin down the door of your spot The feds come get you once you think you on top They just been buildin they case, they got you on tape The CIA clip you if the shit is that deep Your money's that long, you ain't that strong Informants'll bury you under the jail They got wires and statements for juries to hear Then they got rivals that got it clickin just like you That's your competition, them niggas tryin to eat too They'll set you up for dead if you don't show strength Extort all your workers cause you ain't built for this Plus stick-up kids and jealous-ass niggas You gotta watch your front, sides and your back (Damn) You gotta keep your eyes on your bitch and your mens You gotta keep your mind sharp livin so fed [ CHORUS (2X) ] |
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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| from Kool G Rap - Introducing 5 Family Click: Click of Respect (2003) | |||||
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3:38 |
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| from King T - Thy Kingdom Come (2005) | |||||
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3:22 |
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| from The Brand New Heavies - Heavy Rhyme Experience: Vol. 1 (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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3:18 |
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from Dave Chappelle's Block Party (2006)
Hold your flix, I'm not for the photo op's
It's Black, code name Yaphet Kotto ock My twist like a ratchet in an auto shop Since granddaddy old Desoto stopped and he got the Caddie I been gladly servin, any y'all cats wanna act determined Spit pesticides for rats and vermin Seem like none of y'all chumps is learning Y'all hopeless, and I'm a little better than dope is Far from a brand new kid to show biz Tryna hold on, maintain my focus Coming out a room with a could of smoke Smokers rolling with the punches I survive and rock Cause I keep the crowd alive And the texture of my voice Is course and kind of hoarse and cut Like I'm throwing a thousand knives (Hook:) Party people gather round what we have here is a brand new sound Reach for my waist you hit the ground You better duck when that awful sound goes Boom Thats what's happenin in the parking lot Thats whats happenin on stage (Repeat Hook) The man at hand that rule the school And reach and teach the blind and find a way from A to Z And be the most to boast I'm load and proud The game and reign that remain The heat is on so feel the fire come off the empire or the More higher level of depth one step beyond dope To suckers all scope and hope to cop a note Cause I could never let em on top of me I play em out like a game of Monopoly Let it speed around the board like an astro And send them to jail for tryna pass go Shaking them up Breaking them up Taking no stuff But it still ain't loud enough So quest love let the fire roast So I can flow and we can kill the whole show cause (Repeat hook) I'm live Design a finer rhyme that's right on time One step beynd and not behind the line That seperates thought from divine You can take it as a caution or a warning sign Look for antonyms Words I'm sending em Homonyms, synonyms good like M&M's You know the time when it's Riq Gees slicing I turn a Mic's last name into Tyson My brain like a factory constantly creating Materials stitch by stitch for decoration My lyrics one fabric the beat is a lining My passion of rhyming is fashion designing Now it get sorted cause people wanna sport it ya bought it If you didn't then you couldn't afford it Poetry full of surprises it's like a game show And my brain go I do my thing yo (Repeat Hook) |
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4:58 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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| from Big John - The Next Step (2009) | |||||
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Tang Vs. Shaolin Masters (2011) | |||||
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Tang Vs. Shaolin Masters (2011) | |||||
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Tang Vs. Shaolin Masters (2011) | |||||
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3:53 |
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| from Tyger Vinum - Grindin Muzik (2012) | |||||
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| from Cut Killer - Ouragan (Double H Merchandising presente) (2012) | |||||
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| from The Man With The Iron Fists (철권을 가진 사나이) [ost] (2012) | |||||
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| from Jon Dubb - Ladder [digital single] (2013) | |||||
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| from Jon Dubb - Liquid Music (2013) | |||||
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| from Morlockk Dilemma - Stichworte [digital single] (2013) | |||||
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| from Fat Joe - Represent (2016) | |||||
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| from Pete Rock - Soul Survivor (2016) | |||||
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