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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
[Ghostface]
Uh-huh, uh-huh, motherfucker, uh-huh Yeah, I see that, I see that All y'all fake motherfuckers up in the joint, huh? Stealin my light, huh? Watch me, duke, watch me Yo, check these up top murderous Snowy in the bezzle as the cloud merges F.B.I. try and want word with this Kid who punked out bust a shot uip in the becon Catch me in the corner not speakin Crushed out heavenly, U.G. rock the sweet daddy long fox minks Chicken and brocolli, Wally's look stinky With his man straight from Raleigh Durham, he recognized Kojak I slapped him five, Masta Killa cracked his tiny form E'rybody break bread, huddle around Guzzle that, I'm about to throw a hand in your bag Since the face been revealed, game got real Radio been gassin niggaz, my imposters scream they ill I'm the inventor, '86 rhymin at the center Debut '93 LP told you to Enter Punk faggot niggaz stealin my light Crawl up in the bed with grandma, beneath the La-Z-Boy where ya hid ya knife Ghost is back, stretch Cadillacs, fruit cocktails Hit the shells at Paul's Pastry Rack Walk with me like Darthy tried to judge these plush degrees, said the cow, wrap the fees Gettin waxed all through the drive-thru Take the stand, throw my hand all on the Bible and tell lies too, I'm the ultimate splash the Wolverine Razor Sharp ring, dolomite student in role holdin it [Chorus: Ghostface] Aiyyo, this rappin's like Ziti, facin me real TV Crash at high-speeds, strawberry, kiwi As we approach, yo herb, the Gods bail These Staten Island ferryboat cats bail Fresh cellies, 50 thief up in the city We banned for life, Apollo kids live to spit the real [Ghostface] A pair of bright phat yellow Air Max Hit the racks, stack 'em up Son, $20 off no tax Street merchant tucked in the cloud, stay splurgin Rock a eagle head, 6-inch height was the bird Monday night Dallas verse Jets, dudes slid in with one hand Two culture-ciphers, one bag of wet Heavy rain fucked my kicks up Wasn't lookin, splashed in the puddle Bitch laughin, first thought was beat the bitch up Mossied off gracefully, New York's most wanted tee-ball hawk Seen the yellow brick road, lust of pastries Same Ghostface, holy in the mind Last scene: Manhatten Chase We drew the six-eight digit in the briefcase Rawness, title is Hell-bound Quick to reload around faces, surround look astound [Raekwon] We split a fair one, poker nose money Gin rummy with glare, spot the lame, bit his ear Yo, you taste a tea-spoon, 300 goons, stash baloons Locked in lab rooms, hit with glock, stashed in Grant's Tomb Clocked him like a patient, his stock's full, hustle invasion Knowin now, we cocked a block off, the chain tri-color Freezin in valor, ice-sicle galore Gas station light gleamin on the wall Cop WiseGuy jams, James Bond vans Niggaz flipped Timbs, rock boats under water, watch clams pose at the stand-off, mad timid hopin that the gun fall, guess him like lottery balls, yo [Chorus] |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
[Intro: Ghostface Killah]
Yeah... what's happpening New York City? It's ya boy Ghost in the muthafuckin' house tonight ("Don't fuck with Ghost, you'll feel sorry") Nahwhatimean? We about to get it popping, let's go! Yo! Yo! [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] Tell your crew to be easy, niggaz run around With them fake frowns, sell 'em on eBay Get word to the DJ, tell 'em Staten Island's In the house, put the record on replay [Ghostface Killah] Get your nose blowned off by the fifth, uh You wanna be there, layin' all stiff, uh Everytime you go uptown, you get jipped, uh That's karma, boy, running your lip, uh You be fronting like you got a bunch of chicks, uh You be at home, nigga, beating your dick, uh I'm in the club with the chipped up wrist, uh You at the bar, whoadie, drinkin' my piss, uh The yellow shit, and the bottle ain't Crys', son You turned your muthafuckin' head, nigga, we switched 'em You just mad cause I'm hittin' your sister You in the other room, huh, you couldn't sleep, uh Pop a lotta shit without that liquor, yup We mind seat up, so take our picture I'm like the boogeyman, nigga, I'll get ya Whether now or later, afterlife, or switcher [Interlude: Ghostface Killah] Yeah, oh shit, aiyo Tone hurry up and get 'em, nigga You knowhatimean, it's about to pop off! Ya'll niggaz clear the fucking floor Get the fuck out the way, come on! [Chorus] [Trife Da God] (Ghostface Killah) {both} Yo, it's Tone in the building (the teams in the building) Niggaz wanna beef {what up, what up, what up} We packed to the ceiling (we constantly chilling) We can cause {we could, we shoot, we slice, we cut} [Ghostface Killah] Shimmy shimmy ya, shimmy yam, shimmy yea, now Yes, my birthday, landed in nay, now Peace to Dirt Dog, I'm back like deja vu Leave your girl around me, I will bag your boo Ahh, you bitch niggaz better listen up Anybody front, paramedics gonna pick 'em up They try to save you, sware to God, I hit the nurse up Like "Nah, doc, he look better in a herse truck" I tried to ignore it, his people saw it I ain't the type of dude you go to war with My polo gun yo, will crack the floor shit When the heat's on, you know I draw it I had his number down, Toney just called it [Interlude: Ghostface Killah] Yo, aiyo, Pete Rock, good looking nigga! Staten Island, yo Theodore! What's the deal Slap me one of the ratchets, I'm about to go in! Yo! [Chorus] [Ghostface Killah] Gotta get that cheese, gotta pimp that V Gotta burn those leaves, and uh Pretty Tone make the girls say please Daddy work that d, put it in and be eas' and uh So what, come on, now some of y'all people Might know me from my wallabies Pretty bitches got my number, y'all can dial me I stick it up like an iced cake robbery And when I'm done, y'all can finger nail file me Floss the ill robes since Criminology Supreme Clientele, put the world on top of me Yo babe, hurry up, with those collard greens I represent S.I., ain't as wild as me They lousy, I'm phat like a pound of cheeba weed brownies Tone got the powder squeeze, don't surround me Quick to pick a honey up, shit, the flow's Bounty Ya'll can just crown me! [Outro: Ghostface Killah] Yeah, that's right I like to thank y'all for coming out tonight How y'all like that shit? Youknowhatimean? You really run New York This is that Theodore shit, muthafucker! |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
[Intro: Ghostface Killah w/ Billy Stewart samples]
Aiyo... aiyo, what up, yo What up, ya'll, this that Pretty Toney shit Aiyo, I know there's a lot of hoods and shit out there A lot of niggas done got bodied A lot of niggas done got robbed and shit You know what I mean? We love a lot of things in the hood But time goes on... and if we don't change a lot of shit Shit always gonna be this way, and that's a muthafucka fact! True gangsta shit, ya'll, yo, yo, yo When ya'll turn my mic up in here, bareback shit Knowhatimean? Tired of ya'll muthafuckas and shit One-two, fuck around and clob on one of ya'll muthafuckas Yo Spidey, put that reverb shit, on Come on... "Can you feel it? Can you feel it?" Yeah "Can you feel it..." Let's go, fuck it... [Ghostface Killah] Live from Staten Island, where the gangstas kill Only place on the map, that got the 30 dollar bill And we front like we got millions Our specialty is how we willie, niggas That's how Buck brought the building And the police is pussy, they protect and serve They connect, with baseheads then they frisk our birds Smack DVDs, blowin' herb, I'm in the room Bonin' these two white bitches, Ice baggin' up work That's how we get down, fuck Vegas The black Carlo Gambino, rockin' the wallo's Blow his diamonds in Z-No's, spicey, verses is jalapeno Best to leave, when I'm in the big Escalade, I'm sittin' on Dino Tone Stark, a poet's art, kiss the girls And bake them pies, clean up, some are old darts This that real live don' shit, you heard! [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] Yo, they lick forty rounds, today Okay, plus the shit is mad hot around the way Niggas don't give a fuck on any time or day Or if he dyin' today, or could he find a way Blow niggas over 'turt, bitches, dimes and trays Blow a nigga a jewel and watch him slide away It's like that, in the hood, he in the grimy say But what we try'nna say is gonna "be this way" It don't have to... it don't have to... "My God!" [Ghostface Killah] With big carrots and static, with that leaves the bad habits Drugs layin' in buildings with great big automatics Anonimos' in the hood, it's a fact, we could do magic Splatter faggots in lobbies, the heat burn off his eyelashes Don't try to pass this, back up or you'll receive something Real tragic, them hollows'll race through your jacket Semi gangstas with weak tactics Forensic scientists called in to display graphics For square inch to his back winds They brain is spleen, it's left all over a fiend's mattress Bastard, we cock and squeeze after we leave our ratchets We keep the hood cryin' for massive havoc No Trix we take from silly rabbits, yo feed them lead carrots The little mans'll connect and they touch that fabric The only thing that can stop 'em is that tephlon phat shit Maybe artillery's heavy like a bunch of fat chicks Brrrr.... baow! Ain't no comin' back bitch! [Chorus] [Outro: Billy Stewart samples] "Ways... be this way!" (3X) |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Ghostface Killah - Apollo Kids (2010)
[Ghostface Killah]
Where's my horse? {shouts} de Andre! {makes horse sounds} Andre? Yo! Throw me in a mosh pit I'm liable to start shit Melt the place then break out like an arsonist Classified to get it in for a classic killing If I turn my back and walk that means I'm chilling Got bitches in mi casa boiling fresh lobsters But I don't do the shellfish I'm a just eat pasta Turkey italian sausage chopped up kielbasa Doing hits from home like an elite mobster Love my onions diced up real little, wifed up! Gotti trench men is real brittle Poke your nose {Poconos} is where I go with the capos 11 Sammy the Bulls, ready to wack those I'm half black yo, half oregano That's half italian yo, who he? I'm from that Island yo, Staten Crushing niggas like aspirins Commissioner Kelly I'll kill your captian That's word to my bitch that's laid off That little patch in the pussy, word! I ate it off! Team move with hands in the air like Adolf Handing me a big joint that I sprayed off! Raa3fffff [Cappadonna] Toma, toma, mira pene que! Papi Wardrobe, Papi Wardrobe, go ahead Papi Wardrobe! Maricon! Yeah...rrrrrrrrrrrkii kii kii kii kii kii kaaaaah La Costra Nostra La Familia, what! Violate my family ties and I'm a kill y'all Mi amor dame un beso "D" Capitan ghettio hot sauce on my Speghetti-O's Papi Wardrobe mexican handle with ho's All my gutter gang crew got border patrol Like Zorro when I come through black sombrero, what! 2 in the holster my code name Darryl Ride off in the sunset starved in the barrel Long boots on my horse named White Boy John Rock the side of that bitch straight mexican song Ass hanging off the brunt don't ever look at me wrong And my heart beats strong like Julio on guzziii Up in the Arizona desert where the shit get ugly All my Staten Island riders ride or die honchos Get cream all day leave our ponchos We bull fighting niggas wrestle with broncos And my team stay tight like Silver & Tonto Carry a long whip yo I'll whip your ass Hard head mexican dope mixed with hash Machete behind door where the rip and the slash Desperado kids me and Ghost back at last Toma, Toma, Mericon! Papi Wardrobe, Papi Wardrobe, bring it to them! [Trife] Cinco De Mayo imported guns from Cairo Got back with the toast and beat the charge like rhino This bitch who's albino I met her out in Chi-Town while I was out in Greek town ordering Gyros The Bad bitch keep the tool in her bible Quick to murder her rivals and her pops was a gangsta Disciple He Killed about a thousand Vice Lords guns and knife wars The feds came for him so he slid to the 9th ward Down in the N.O. And right before he left he wrote his daughter a memo left stacks in a Benz-o It got hot niggas selling giving out the info He paranoid every 20 seconds out the window Blow it into limbo he spazzed on Lorenzo He smashed him in the head with his own son's Nintendo About a week later the boys came and rushed him Kicked down his door while he was sleep they cuffed him |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
Pretty little Sally sat up by the tree trunk
White miniskirt with a Betty Boom bum She had a ass like Deborah Cox, face like Lauryn Waist like a Coke bottles scoring Pretty young thing loved the swings And times she got my ding-a-ling hard When she said push hard, she kept vaseline Open as she swung back, couldn't help her dress blue back Now held accountable right for my actions Right before the Wallabee Champ was rockin wallows Drawin crads, sent her rap message through a bottle Lines from Dolomite, few tips from Goines Birthday, gave her two 50 cent coins Puppy love, gorgeous face, amazed by lip gloss Cherry cent, when the princess spoked yo it bounched off Mole like Marilyn Monroe, threw a rose in her mouth Wherever God go will be Mrs. Coke Girl's so pretty, kids with little niddys Hope the years go slow, slow Surrounded by intelligence, life through education Healthy minds will grow, grow Catch me on a bus-stop, dustin, cursin out The cops are still coming, vibe with me Everybody's talking about Wu-Tang fronting But you still telling lies to me Beautiful in lightshows, having no intentions on love But having strung eyes of oppose, here we go It's not the way she bubbed the gum, shooked her ass I'm not the one, double dus, waiting for the bus The faggot Nore son, now year later Lady 7th floor, building 7-80 Fancy fox, booties for her socks, nothing else can change me Young Nefertiti, knowledge seed with no jewelry on Tahitian fresh berry tree, she's a capricorn I really liked the girl, had dreams about her Thinking to myself some nights she got ("powered") But hating, was Shinene and Grace and Key-lolo Trick bitches jumped my boo at the school a few years ago Hit me, you hit me, Grace got the last hit Eh yo, the bitches started swinging and shit So I jumped in Those were the days, made faces in school plays Paper trays, city wide test, made half a days Shooting puppy water, might hump the pillow, dick a inch taller Stapleton bum nigga, I'll pop her cherry for her Fresh air fun, here's dunn, alphabets, berets Jellies, bubble yum, soda tongue, too young to cum Then engage him with them candy rings Eh yo, I hit that shit, got jealous when she kissed Rob I broked her chicko's sticks Guys and girls, y'all remember those days, and shit Girls walk around in school, one ponytail with the beret Next looking like baby powder, youknowhatImean? Those were the days right there Boston baked beans, girls come to school with mad candy YouknowhatImean? You'd just come in school for half days, and all that Just to see that little girl right there, ? to this Go home and think about it, youknowhatImean? May hump the bed sometimes on her, youknowhatImean? Word, those days man, those, those were the good old days right there G That shit was fun, lunchroom, see in the lunchroom, youknowhatImean? Might get a little, go to the G.O. Store or something, youknowhatImean? Word, buy a little chocolate, a little shake or something, youknowhatImean? A little buttercrunch joints or something, youknowhatImean? That's that real shit, G I miss those shits, man I wanna go back to school, man That's my word, man |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
[Intro] Yeah Agent Burke here (Check this shit out, nigga, I got a bust for you Some major niggaz from New York, slinging rocks over here, majorly) Where they at? Get that gun, where them matches at, come on! [Ghostface Killah] Cocaine trafficking, your boy's back again Moving bricks like I got a degree in scaffolding Fucking with some cats from Newark, half of them Jewish Cool white boys riding around, blasting my music And I'm taxin' them like Jackson-Hewitt, make sure them packs is moving We out in Baltimore, the home of the Bruins Up top the cops raiding my spot, my product got ruined Drug case pending, but my lawyer is suing Cuz them faggots put my arm in a tussle, let me start in the scuffle Son, they tried to put the God in a duffle But them boys can't knock the hustle, like Hov' said We expose fed, nigga, just give me the code red They say a close mouth don't get fed, well that's a lie Cuz them faggots who be snitching on niggaz, they sure to die You don't want to wake up, with your seed in a cradle missing Sweating bullets hearing wheels peel off from Mercedes engines [Chorus 2X: Trife Da God] Aiyo, these blocks ain't big enough for all of us to eat These corners is mines, so evil bow down or go to sleep It's like jail, in order to live, you gotta earn your keep Prepare for the shakedown, new law and order on the street [Trife Da God] Yeah I write raps, but I sling crack for a living Punk, anywhere, I ain't gotta ask for permission Trife Dies', know the fiends can't miss him Everyday on the shift, like transmission, making them transitions From New York to Great Britain, up state to San Quinton Every corner, every block, from Broad Street to Van Sithlin The grand picture, haul ass when them vans blitz in Watch for police, the word on the street is your man's snitching I'm rider like Pac, ain't no stopping my ambitions Getting money, twenty four seven, bredren, my hand's itching Got me looking through the eye of the scope, and real killas move smooth With a quiet approach, silencers on the tools when they fire the toast And if you ain't dead or in jail, then why the hell you crying you broke I tell a bitch, let me slide in your throat And have her gnawning on my head like she high off of dope, get it? good [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Trife Da God] Uh, uh, uh, uh Theodore, nigga.. |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
[Intro: singer] Them drugs is not mine, them drugs is not mine [Chorus: Trife Da God (singer)] It wouldn't be a problem, if I did the crime I would be a man about it, and just serve my time, but (Them drugs is not mine, them drugs is not mine) I hear all these muthafuckas out here on the grind The cops picked me for the hurt, and chose me out of the line, I said (Them drugs is not mine, them drugs is not mine) [Trife Da God] Officer of the law, why you touching me for? Checking the crack of my ass, and looking under my balls Strip searching, touching my person, dropping my drawers And to top it all off, I ain't got nothing at all I'm a hard working tax payer, for that nature Do forty hours a week, slaving for that paper I'm try'nna make an honest living, it's not much And you hide behind ya gun and badge, thinking you tough Look at him starting, the boys in the blue, peep the sergeant Saying "Let's take him anyway, run his name for warrants" I'm a U.S. citizen, stop treating me like a foreign My whip's legit, get off my dick, insurance plus registration We under surveillance, feds investigating Assuming I'm wrong doing with false accusations They discriminating cuz off my races Central bookings, they was scared to look me dead in my face Now you telling me, I'm being charged with a felony Possesion with intent to sale, three days I spent jail Them drugs ain't mine, your honor, and I ain't copping out of shit Not even one bag of marijuana [Chorus] [Trife Da God] Now I'm sitting up in court, contemplating my thoughts In a cell, with thirty inmates blowing Newports And I'm awaiting to be arraigned, these niggaz doing the same Nodded off in a corner, the bailiff calling my name In front of judge, looking filthy Asking my lawyer how I plead, I plead not guilty He set bail, momma love on the edge of her seat, biting her nails Stressed out, the look on her face was mighty pale Her son's going to jail, a black innocent male No justice, but these kids say justice prevails Stuck between a rock and a hard place, the God's face Truly explains the pain and the heartaches It's too much to partake, but I'm still fighting Still got my hand up, even though it seem frighting It's a fucked up system, niggaz, please listen The old tradition plants in this country, it needs fixing [Chorus] [Hook 2X: singer] Mr. Officer, please understand Them drugs ain't mine, you got the wrong man So quick to put those cuffs on my hands Take my freedom, disrupting my plans |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
[Trife Da God] You wouldn't believe (what) what just happened to Steve He got bagged up town with a brick in his sleeve Plus an asshole full of dimes, so when he see the judge You know he gon' get an asshole full of time Linebacker numbers, no distracting this hunger And they was watching 'em for damn near, half of the summer It's a shame how that boy that bagged, right on the Ave One four-fifth, d's was hopping out yellow cabs Guns drawned, told 'em get on the floor, gave 'em a run for the money And in the process he dished the raw Had the whole precint on him, cops sleeping on him Them faggot ass rednecks started beating on him Usually roll with a pitch in his fifth, or heat is on him Was a risk, but the nigga insist, he keep it on him It's a fucked up world we live in, for all my niggaz been maxed in, in prison Going back to the system [Chorus 2X: Trife Da God] The moral of the story is there ain't one This is just a tale, take a look at this picture, I'm try'nna paint one Go into my mind, and see what you'll find Events that all took place once upon a time [Trife Da God] They say I'm grimey, but I'm cool as shit I show you how to use a bitch, to move a brick Half a kilo stashed in the uteris Don't gotta say a word, she observe when I move my lips She don't sit when she piss, she 'stand up' like Ludacris My bitch, she'll shoot a snitch, quick fast in a hurry And then she'll hop her ass on the Ferry Push the pedal to the metal, pumping gas in the Chevy Hit my whole team off, serving ass in the telly And she ride for a nigga, like Kobe's wife This is Trife, no comparison to Obie Trice And when she bark, man, that's only right Cuz she be starting a flick, starving for dick, on her lonely nights But Tone told me to play it close, before she leave a player broke He seen her in Medina with Katrina stealing baby coats Her pops got money, this shit is worth eighty notes She nineteen and fiend for 'Ice Cream' like Rae and Ghost Good girl, or bad girl, nigga, they all the same See it's not how you fuck 'em, it's how you teach 'em the game You can shape and mold 'em, but you sure can't control 'em They have you dealing with six, going through the emotions [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Trife Da God] Yeah, niggaz, know what I mean Trife Diesel, Starks Enterprise, Emile on the track Kryme Life, Tommy Whispers, Theodore Unit T.M.F. in the house, word up |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
Don't play with me, cause you're playing with fire! (Whooo, smoking, smoking, smoking them Marley Marl's Smile, smoking, them Marley Marl's now be smoking Uh huh uh huh, smoking, light them Marley up nigga, you Smoking) {yeah, yo} [Trife Da God] When you motherfuckin' ducks gonna learn, that you playin' with fire Nigga, everything I touch, I burn When I spark and that fire heat up, you better run To the nearest telephone and call the fire chief up Cuz I'm hazard, causin' disorder on your recorder So run along with your little buckets of water There's not a nigga that can doubt my game or doust my flame I'm know to cause a panic when you shout my name Fire, you damn right, nigga, I bang pipes It's not a fucking room in this building I can't light I'm the definition when you mix heat with friction When I walk through I set off all sprinkler systems I'm that kid with the firey flow, the firey glow Adjust the mic levels or the wires will blow New York's bravest, meet the man who inspired the pro's Throw on your fireproof bombers and admire the show, let's go [Chorus: Ghostface Killah & Trife Da God] Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fighting Fire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (nigga) Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fighting Fire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (uh) Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fighting Fire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (yeah) Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fighting Fire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (let's go) [Ghostface Killah] Peep the barcode, leave the booth, wrapped it in charcoal Sippin' on firewater, plus I keep a cigar rolled The human torch, special effects, cannons is shootin' off Leave body bags full of ashes, we ain't no move to cost Spit flammable bars, I got a whooping cough Scarlet red, six forty five, with the dual exhaust My barrel blow like dodgers, pop one in your rider And cause a meltdown at One Police Plaza I'm the opposite of aqua, hotter than a plate of pasta I'm the reason LaMar Odom was traded off the roster The hot stepper, crushing ya niggaz like hot pepper The forty cal' squeeze a nigga, my heaters apply pressure In the kitchen with the gun steaming, six hundred degrees Feeling like you in the desert with the sun beaming You can't block me with the sun screening Ultra violet rays, shorten his days, we left his blood streaming [Chorus 2X] |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God & Tommy Whispers)
[Intro: Trife Da Good] Mmm-hmm... yo we going in, nigga [Chorus 2X: Trife Da God] It's game time, gear the lacing of your kicks When I bang mine, ain't no escaping out this bitch And your chain's mine, kidnap the bracelet off your wrist Heard it through the grapevine, that you was hating on the click [Trife Da God] I'm not Chris Tuck', but I'll tuck them ratchets When I was young, I used to beat off, and fuck the mattress And I promise you, step out of line, see what that llama do Demolish you, rip through your chest, hit your abdominal My hammer hold twelve like a dozen of eggs And your man'll get bodied over something he said I'm not a blood, but I rock nothing but red He got his button on, I heard son fuck with the feds Why niggaz wanna fuck with my bread, like I ain't starving When I reign, I leave niggaz in Payne, but I ain't Martin If I ain't gone, I'm gonna move the weight by the carton On the plate carving, find me out of sight like a martian And I'm bobbing and weaving, dodging the precint Hit I-95, blowing cigars on the Decon Even when I'm fucked up, you know the God'll be eating It's all good, my hood is like the Garden of Eden [Chorus 2X] [Tommy Whispers] We make hits, classical shit, spit acid Turn bodies into ashes, T.M.F., we the masters Father to your style, so you can't be called a bastard Held fast in close casket, on the verge of collapsion Demolition derby, car crashing, heart smashed in Brutaly, I beast on beats, Broadstreet, Staten Usually I creep black heat, in dusty clothes Then drift from rusty 'fro's Communicate; Sprint to Sprint, somebody knows Phonetap, info'll get leaked like cognac Seepin' through plastic cups, no caps on the bottle Sold crack cuz I got to, feed my seed is my motto Believe I'm leave the hood, I hit the lotto But wherever I go, you know the hood gon' follow With them hollows and a tech, spray Windex Glassed on niggaz get chin check Theodore Unit, nigga, we out for them ten checks [Chorus 2X] [Trife Da God] I'm in the kitchen with them pots and pans And when them guns start to fire Ain't no telling where them shots gon' land Niggaz smile up in your face, but they not your man So it's obvious they not gon' stand I'm on the block, every day, moving yay', try'nna knock off grams If a nigga steal from me, I'm gonna chop off hands, so don't Get it confused, niggaz, give up them tools Cuz when we walk through the spot, y'all get up and move I'm a nigga that stay bending the rules Take a real good luck at a crook, and remember this dude Now keep that talk to a minimum, cuz niggaz be quick to peel off When that shit jump off like Lil' Kim and 'em Pumped off adrenaline, got his man drillin' him Feelin' him, gasin' him with all types of words I'm like the rain forest, I got all types of birds But they don't get the same treatment, that my wife deserve [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Tommy Whispers (Trife Da God] Yeah, nigga, Tommy Whispers, Trife Diesel Uh huh, flip a mill, Kryme Life (Theodore, nigga) Word up, T.M.F., kid, smashin' all microphones (Stapleton) 10304 niggaz |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God & Tommy Whispers)
[Intro: Trife Da God] Uh-huh, let's go, knowhatimean Lot of these muthafuckin' rappers Talking alot of bullshit on these tracks Youknowhatimean, they dry snitching, throwing indirect Well this what we gon' 'do, man We gon' flush all these rats out the system Knowhatimean, set a few traps Get they ass up out of here, yeah, yo [Trife Da God] For all y'all niggaz with them Nextels, chirpin' and bleepin' On them walkie talkies frontin', like y'all work for the precint 10-4 niggaz claiming they hustlers, soon as they cuff ya In interrogation booths, y'all confessing like Usher Do the crime, do the time, that's the way I was taught And fuck surrending to jake, nigga, I'd rather get caught You got these niggaz on camera, frontin' hard with they team Wavin' they hammers, incriminating theyself on the screen Roleplaying, imitating some movie they seen That ain't gangsta, real gangsta niggaz generate CREAM And now you wonder why the FEDS come knock me, infiltrating the system Don't be suprised nigga, you let those cops in Plus the record labels is watching, you think they gonna sign you? You think they gonna put up that bread and get behind you Reality check, stupid, let me remind you All that try'nna push ya way through the door, deceased in 9-2 [Chorus 2X: Trife Da God] Yah-yo, yah-yo, this is that gangsta shit Go 'head and roll ya window down and crank that shit Whether ya red or blue, homey, bang yo click My New York niggaz get money, and slam those bricks [Trife Da God] In the hood, I'm a Legend like John, I've never been harmed On the block shooting dice, holding bread in my palm Gatten Island niggaz, yeah we got a fetish for arms Berettas tucked in our leathers, strapped with terrorist bombs Shorties, running around with more Gunz than Corey Getting high off weed smoke, blowing your funds on forties You'll be amazed how these rappers try to run with stories This ain't a novel, muthafucka, this is guts and glory Pain and struggle, the game will crush you, it's a everyday hustle You want to eat, you better strain your muscles Hopeless martyrs, afraid when approached by mobsters With them grams, call me Sam the way I'm "coachin'" "carters" With starters, listen homey we can never be partners Don't get it twisted, handle business with my hands and revolvers The grown man, that'll touch up your wig, like beauty parlors Pop niggaz, like, how we pop bottles, you do the honors, nigga [Chorus 2X] [Tommy Whispers] Spot you twenty points, and you still can't win You can't compare Grey Go' to gin, you too thin Ya'll niggaz is hubcaps fuckin' with big rims If the shoe fit, then your foot in my timb Masked up, hoodies and gems, I couldn't defend Your title small, a deuce-deuce next to a rifle The hackle'll snipe you, disconnect and dis-mic you Disrespect your rivals, have you dancing like Michael Moonwalker, uh-huh, platoon bark, goons in the dark Only lights from the spark, boom-boom in the parks Vocals in fumes from my darts, lead the roofs on the part Fuck up your happy home, daddy's back with a chrome Snatchin' ya throne, you mimicking, you actually cloned Finish him, I'm crackin' ya bones, diminishing Real terror, purple men, backed off pistoling Like them papies uptown, them hammers is whistling [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Trife Da God] Uh, yeah, 718, criminal grind, Theodore Trife Da God, yo Slay, what up, my nigga? Tommy Whispers, Kryme Life, youknowhatimeansaying Money Come First, T.M.F. we getting money over here Gatten Island niggaz, knowhatimean Where the guns go off |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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3:21 |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(featuring Allah Real)
[Ghostface Killah] I'm from a place where fish was made Cordoroy Baley's, sportin' those Rakim caves Rakeem came, high self asteem promised me A moment in life, just to wreck yall lames Throw the Tec to your brain, puttin' the best to shame This is Theodore, best to tuck those Dana Dane's See me comin' (blaow!) start runnin' and (blaow! blaow!) Aiyo... (blaow! blaow! blaow!) Who them fly niggaz when we walk through the party Pimp talk with the Mac strapped to our body Bartender's nervous, afraid to serve us, bad service Un-smacked him on purpose and see this drunk come and berp us Paper chasers, Starky stayed up in the makings Theodore conquer the four devils wit the patience Cellphones is blowin', the crews not available Ask 'Donna, word in the town, we the realest dudes We don't need no diamonds rings All we need is a drum, like, fuck it, he can rhyme, I'll sing And in my Yankee hat, you can drop five beans And then run back to momma, like, all I know is.. [Chorus: Allah Real] Holla holla holla.. if you want to, I love you (I love you) Holla holla holla if you want to, I love you (I love you) [Ghostface Killah] When I walk through any function You bet your ass that the 4/5'll cook, fuck your wack looks Fuck platinum, fuck, let me show ya'll crooks This is legit rap, I.R.S. can suck my books I'm a family man, Clan mixed with Theodore My boots hang over the telephone wires on Broad' Word to MetLife, Tony got insurance on his mics Smoke mad shit and still got endurance when he fight Both hands clusty, bank account dusty! Ever, say, my name, again, you pussy! Like, an angry, cripple, man, don't push me! Don't believe the kid, listen to me.. [Chorus] [Ghostface Killah] Dirty told me to rock the spot (yeah) Freak the beats cuz the streets is raw (go 'head) Don't believe what you see, just watch (true) Speak to the seeds, give 'em lead on jobs (come on) Educate, keep it peace wit Gods (that's right) In return, happiness in globs (yeah) We see the future like a psychic's palm [Allah Real] The things I'm saying are true And the way I explain them to you, yes to you Listen to me [Chorus] |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
A nigga like me, man, I love the game, I love the hustle, man I be feeling like one of them ball playing niggaz, you know? A Bird, a Magic, or something, yeah, you know a nigga got dough A nigga can leave the league, but if I leave. The fans still gonna love me, man? I get love out here, I done sold coke on these streets, man Hash, weed, heroin, as long as niggaz is feeling it A nigga like me can hustle it, that's my gift in life, eh You know? Funny man, you a hustling muthafucker, man (Uh, I heard it was rocking out here, where the dough at, man?) {You know how what it is} (These niggaz out here, yeah, they got the move straight up) {Aiyo, next fiend that come thru, I'm tackling them, I don't give a fuck} (What the fuck you looking at man?) {I need like five sales in a row, man Y'all niggaz fall back} (What the hell my niggaz at, man, straight up and down man We ain't playing out here) {I'm out here, right now, man Everything is me, when I'm out here, man} (Take a break or get broke) [Chorus 4X: 50 Cent sample "Places to Go"] Hustle hard, money stack, sell that dope, sell that crack Sell that pack, sell that gat, sell that pussy, holla back! [Trife Da God] We hustle hard in the city of Gods, with dedicated dealers Take this shit for a serious job Thugs with hideous scars, bag the prettiest broads And teach 'em how to move coke, in they panties and bra's My pops stayed on the hustle, cuz the family was large No fancy cars, no shrimp scampi or caviar Just a cold plate of agony, mixed with a harsh reality Fuck a donation, we started our own charities We had to hustle, we ain't caking like Russell So if you live how we live, you can relate to the struggle Me and my niggaz running wild like some apes in the jungle Paper chasing, serving fiends, at the gate when they come through This one's for all my Newport slingers, dope heads that'll chew off fingers Just to shoot that thing up, get on ya grind 'Cause while your getting yours, I'm getting mines If you need some tips on how to hustle, drop me a line [Chorus 4X w/ ad-libs] [Trife Da God] Hustle hard, that's the only way a nigga know how Been grinding most of my life, and I ain't gon' stop now Growing up, I remember them days, slinging that beige Pumping trays on the first of the month, niggaz was paid I learned the tricks of the trade, with the flip or the save When you bag up, wear rubber gloves and clean off the blade I used to watch my older brother carve stones at the table And my moms home, it was new to my 'view', like Star Jones In and out of buildings, lamping in halls with eight balls Way before they had the cameras installed That was 9-7, when Biggie Smalls gave us the script The Ten Crack Commandments on how to manage your bricks Shopping bags, popping tags, with the brand new in shit No more hand-me-down rags, my appearance was dipped I'm on my grind like coffee beans, I'm gon' sale Worldwide I got fiends on line like AOL [Chorus 4X w/ ad-libs] |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
Yo.. one-two..
Yo; aiyyo he said I had fly ankles Plus my bangles was star-studded out, Ice cut it out! Everytime we attend somewhere, you act real terribly You shit on niggaz too much you start to worry me You switch up, last week you burned a old lady's retina I thought them thick Coke bottle jammies might protect her But it didn't Pah, the lady's blind and it's all your fault It went down to jury court and you walked On stage you fuck with nigga's faces, glaciers Hittin off with Cristal bottles, bing wind up in the basement Very expensive championship Chip Rocks known for his wedding day, bitches give you props Look you tied a knot, understand you hot; you got my man popped in the most famous era, like when "Play the Fool" dropped Waves and blue tops, raise the roof off the group Them days, the black and red MJ's, I was loose! |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
Yo.. one-two..
Yo; aiyyo he said I had fly ankles Plus my bangles was star-studded out, Ice cut it out! Everytime we attend somewhere, you act real terribly You shit on niggaz too much you start to worry me You switch up, last week you burned a old lady's retina I thought them thick Coke bottle jammies might protect her But it didn't Pah, the lady's blind and it's all your fault It went down to jury court and you walked On stage you fuck with nigga's faces, glaciers Hittin off with Cristal bottles, bing wind up in the basement Very expensive championship Chip Rocks known for his wedding day, bitches give you props Look you tied a knot, understand you hot; you got my man popped in the most famous era, like when "Play the Fool" dropped Waves and blue tops, raise the roof off the group Them days, the black and red MJ's, I was loose! |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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2:56 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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2:16 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God, Solomon Childs & Sun God)
[Intro: Ghostface Killah (Trife Da God)] Where the DJ's at? (Yeah) that's right What's the deal y'all? (Theodore, nigga) Theodore's in the building, Staten Island stand up (That's right, Gatten Island) Word up (I'm like Ray Charles, nigga Pay me my motherfuckin' bread in singles) That's what I'm try'nna tell ya, it's real (Heard me) Big Tone Starks in the building, now, come on [Chorus 2X: Trife Da God (Solomon Childs)] (Man up) Somebody gon' get laid down (Man up) Whether music or four pounds (Man up) Ain't no need to know me well We can get the drama popping, homey, I won't tell [Trife Da God] This is my year, eating like a baby in a high chair Fly gear, versace eye wear, we the pioneers I fuck bitches sipping on dry beer Only rock Timbs and Air Forces, yo, oc', give me like 5 years Fresh out the box with it, Chicago Sox fitted Uh, if the product is banging, first hit the block with it Set the drug charges and my criminal formula O-5 black suburban straight from General Motors Walk through give the niggaz the shoulder Just fucked this bitch on the sofa Twisted the chocha, me'll flip on the culture Had the bird niggaz shittin' in peels, clippin' your tail Let the four-five kiss ya, as I'm liftin' your bail Put a hundred wolves on you, have them pick up the trail While I'm in the honeycomb, weighing bricks on the scale Sippin' old M.A., me and my protege's, cause even on the coldest day Your boy stil shine, giving off solar rays [Chorus 2X] [Ghostface Killah] What you know about stepping out heavy, Just' jewels, no crew hurry My inside pants leg, I'm packing like two machetes One ratchet, two gloves and a mask Jumping out of green rover, niggaz ballin' me down That's when I reached over, figured they ain't go no matters Young boys round here, they don't know my status And niggaz looking for a full time jack move But they don't know, that these blades here, crack dudes Give it to 'em quick, something like fast food Take a nigga gun, like 'you gonna blast who?' Cinderella girl frontin' in them glass shoes Homo thug bitch ass nigga, I'll smash you You mad, cause you rockin' the shit bag Smellin' like piss, when it popped your click ran You fucking with powerful niggaz, devour your business It ain't gravy, you pussy niggaz, you the Avon lady, fuck you [Chorus 2X] [Sun God] Niggaz better stay in they place Cuz when I stash the plastic mask on, leave a hole in your face Who this young dude holding the weight Got every drug from dope to bud, even small package your face Niggaz bam, look God in the face, can't look in my eyes I tell you why, cause this thing on my waist Bread and butter, got it all for sale, and I'm duckin' the cops On every block, I ain't going to jail I ain't the type that'll rot in the cell Never talk or fist fight, with drama, I'll be popping these shells Hit your chest and your flesh get, hotter than hell Them hollow tips make it hard to inhale, you not worthy Vest and a white tees, and throwback jerseys Julius Irvings, black suburban Twisted off one-five-one, my whips swerving Try'nna see that chips, full clips, no splurging [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Ghostface Killah] That's right, yeah, another Theodore production Yeah, Anthony Acid on the beats, y'all Ones and twos y'all, yeah, that's right Big Ghost in the building, Staten Island in the mother-f'ing building Nigga, yeah, man up, bitch... |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
INTRO:
-My God, so they are killers. I've heard lots of people say once a man's a killer, they just keep on killing and killing; they sort of develop a taste for blood. -Yeah, that's right. They kill one man, or kill ten, it's all the same (yes). After all, THEY CAN ONLY HANG YOU ONCE. VERSE 1: Both hands clusty, chillin' wit my man Rusty low down Blew off the burner kinda dusty The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape Rae co-host Monty Hall expo, intellect you red pro Son triflin fuck, wildflower on the cyclin Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an' Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into Iron Duals Turn-ons the Earth's whoopee, she out of law school In hale break beats of hell A-Alikes propel parallel Duracell night, you flash a burnt cell Snap out of CandyLand, kids the old rumor is blacks become immune to shit, we never did like eati' dead birds chose the pharmacy over herbs Men marryin men, ill they got the herbs pulsar Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter Livin' off land you god damn right I fuck fans king me Check checkmate props like the micro chip founder Neck to neck stocks with Bill Gates now CHORUS: When we hug these mics we get busy Come and have a good time with G-O-D Make you snap your fingers or wiggle Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle Shake that body, party that body Don't fuck with Ghost you'll feel sorry That's word, I'm not the herb Understand what I'm sayin' (echo) VERSE 2: Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter Culprit, prince of the game wish you could see us We lay low glitter wax full bangles Priceless rolls, lay around the God get tangled Woolly hair, eyes firey red, feet made of brass Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff Move, every script's like Miramax Smash the big boy totalled it, will shot fear effects Son beamin' wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima Wu 'binos, to latinos, we bust Selena Over night, God schedules, fed ex Pretty soloette velvet nice DNA scroll genetics Too hot, to handle one thought scramblin the mandolin Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack em, say when He rollin up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts Yo kid stop frontin' on the ground before you get touched It's Canada Dry sess, obsessed with Allah's sun We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry -What we do, depends on breath control, so it's the first thing you must learn. Fortunately it's easy. You'll soon learn. - My God so they are killers - Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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4:39 |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
[Ghostface]
Yeah.. whassup y'all, whassup? This is Ghostface, straight from Staten Island You know.. I don't really mean no harm.. but it just happens you know when I step approach a motherfuckin wack nigga.. that tryin to spit his darts and can't spit 'em Check it out though.. aiyyo.. Scientific, my hand kissed it Robotic let's think optimistic You probably missed it, watch me dolly dick it Scotty watty cop it to me, big microphone hippie Hit Poughkepsie crispy chicken verbs throw up a stone richie Chop the O, sprinkle a lil' snow inside a Optimo Swing the John McEnroe, rap rock'n'roll Tidy Bowl, gung-ho pro, Starsky with the gumsole Hit the rump slow, parole kids, live Rapunzel but Ton' stizzy really high, the vivid laser eye guide Jump in the Harley ride, Clarks I freak a lemon pie I'm bout it, bout it - Lord forgive me, Ms. Sally shouted Tracey got shot in the face, my house was overcrowded You fake cats done heard it first On how I shitted on your turf at times, Cuban Link verse yo Check out the rap kingpin, summertime fine jewelry drippin Face in the box, I seen your ear twitchin As soon as I drove off, Cap' came to me with three sawed-offs Give one to Rae', let's season they broth Lightning rod fever heaters, knock-kneeder Sheeba for hiva Diva got rocked from the receiver bleeder Portfolio, lookin fancy in the pantry My man got bigger dimes son, your shit is scampi Base that, throw what's in your mouth, don't waste that See Ghost lampin in the throne with King Tut hat Straight off Yeah.. yeah.. I just wan't y'all niggaz to smack all y'all niggaz, and niggarettes Universal death threats, yeah This be the God Body, yeah no doubt Judge Wise Aiyyo spiced out Calvin Coolidge, loungin with 7 duelers The Great Adventures of Slick, lickin with 6 rugers Rock those, big boy Bulotti's out of Woodridge Porch for the biggest beer, season giraffe ribs Rotissiere ropes, hickory scented mint scented glaze Perfected find truth within self, let's smoke All hail to my hands, 50 thou' appraisal Dirty nose with the nasal drip, click flipped on fam Dancin with Blanch and them bitches, flickin goose pictures Kick down the ace of spades, snatch Jack riches Olsive compulsive lies flies with my name on it Dick made the cover now count, how many veins on it Scooby snack jurassic plastic gas booby trap Ten years workin for me, you wanna tap shit? Bung bung bung! Your bell went rung rung rung! Staple-Land's where the ambulance don't come Yeah, you see what I mean? You see what I mean, you motherfuckin crybabies? Get in line punk! You should be studyin your odds instead of studyin me! That's how you lost your first job punk Now get in line, for you get your lil' thick-ass tossed up! Shit! I studied under Bruce Lee nigga He was on the fourth, I was on the third [RZA] Pass me a honey-dipped spliff, black mental cause continental drift One whiff of Pow U gets my Divine stiff Brick rock, late night, hear the tick tock of my clock I used to run up and pick, a crab lock Hit his stash, dip back, to the Lab, make him flip Uptown, BOO-DOOP, now we back on your ass Incognito, fatal aikido blow, pop a needle Dick a knock-knee hoe, bust out her fetal Nine inch long strong, Bobby pop the bitch thongs Spit on her, then I banged on my chest like Kong King Merciless Meng, point the killa bee sting ring DINGS, right through your head BING Snap the wing off of bats, my battleaxe tongue hacks tracks Once the ball drop, I'ma snatch ten jacks Pass the crack to a niggarette, puff a looseleaf cigarette while your man search the internet for +Bob Digitech in Stereo+ Crazy as Shapiro Multiply myself ten times standin next to zero And snap my fingers like the Fonz and bag me a golden bronze skinned girl with the honey blonde dip hair, make a nigga flip in his chair Had the armpit shaved off perfect with the Nair Stomach fat as a pancake for her man's sake Used to fuck her when she menestraute but it made her hyperventilate [Ghostface] |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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3:29 |
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| from Mr. Hichi (미스터 히치 - 당신을 위한 데이트 코치) [ost] (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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4:04 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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4:19 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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4:27 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God, Kryme Life & Tommy Whispers)
[Chorus 1.5X: Trife Da God] This world is full of shockers, and project soap operas Episodes of drama, never ending sagas [Trife Da God] You know Pudgie, who rock the old rugby, kinda chubby Timbs always muddy, and his wiz is kinda ugly Him and his man Dudley got killed in an accident Late last night, when they was driving down Castleton The whip was badly crashed, come on, you do the math They probably smoked a bag, no seatbelts, they flew through the dash The forecast was foggy, light drizzle, sky; cloudy Lost control at the wheel, a front pole wrapped they Audi It was televised, at the scene live, on Channel Seven Newsflash story, this just in, around eleven Yellow tape scenery, barricaded the block Patrol cars and EMS, all invaded the spot It was tragic, they swerved out of control to a wood traffic Hopped the curb, tired flatted, glass shattered Witnesses said they heard a big bang and loud screetches And Tamika said police found drugs in Pudgie speaker Plus son had an open case, for dope and base Jake rushed his moms lab, he got bagged in Ocean Lake [Chorus: Tommy Whispers] [Chorus: Trife Da God] [Kryme Life] Oh lord, two shots just went off on Broad I ran out the building, seen my man on the floor Children running frantic, with fear, all I saw Was a four door Explorer, made a uey, then pulled off Miss Gloria screaming, nobody seen him by the store Beanie and Jamal, freaking on the lawn Told me, if they get you, call Ruck with the rental My mental went rushing, who the fuck was buzzing Was it them niggaz that we stuck for them hundreds Or did that bitch that we ran a train on, tell her husband Moving fast, hoping that my man don't past Heart pumping, eyes closing, yo, he might not last EMS please hurry, nervous and worried He's only 19, he's too young to be buried Got a life ahead of him, Georgia Tech just accepted him Point guard, but at this point, God It was heaven and Allah opening gates for the star It was hard, I couldn't believe, he stopped breathing Stopped from achieving his dream, now he leaving Thugs grieve, aiyo, he never slinged a thing And died over drug beef, it's a ghetto soap opera Living on these bugged streets, streets, streets [Chorus: Tommy Whispers] [Chorus: Trife Da God] [Tommy Whispers] Now Barbara need to stop Always at the kitchen table, lighting up the rocks While her daughter sit and watch Cuz her bathroom out of order, gotta knock on Uncle Kevin's door But it's really scary, cuz he live way on the seventh floor And she was out on 2, the older brother still in school But she had to stay home cuz of the flu Only six, but she more advanced than other little kids Always wondering, what's going on, outside the crib So she stepped into the hall, pressed the elevator button Bumped into this kid, making a sale, it wasn't nothing So cool, little and frail, but she knew what he was pumping At the store, he would walk to mommy, and hand her something And she always gave her money, few minutes after they got back home She acting funny, attitude getting ugly So she took the ride up, five floors, knocked on the door quick Didn't even speak, she just headed for the toilet After she was done, he told her go to the store, the milk spoiled Plus we needed some bread and some tin foil Little girl heart was loyal, so she ran downstairs Knocked on the door, to get Barbara, but she could not hear Now she at the corner with nobody to cross her, red light changing And up come a speeding Explorer.. [Interlude: female] This is Juwana Brookman, reporting for WTMI Broadcasting live from Staten Island What started out as an ordinary day Ended in a catastrophic three part tragedy Police officials released information of a brutal car accident That lead to the death of two men in the Stapleton area Soon after, a minor was gunned down in front of his aparment building To add to the travesty, a young girl was a victim of a tragic hit and run Details of her condition, are still to be The warrants have issued a 50 thousand dollar arrest For any information leading to the arrest and conviction of the suspect If you have any information, we ask that you contact them at 1-800-BE-A-SNITCH, this is Juwana Brookman Signing off for WTMI News [Chorus: Tommy Whispers] |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
[Chorus: Trife Da God (sample)] We love hip hop, and live a life of crime Felt like I've been robbed, gotta take what's rightfully mine So I'm staying on my job, yo, as far as the grinds Gotta put in that work every day and just (put it on the line) Strong mind still shine, young man in my prime Had to switch it up on 'em, had to change with the times Now the flows upgraded, got the labels in line And sold five, get ya money up bitch (put it on the line) [Trife Da God] You about to read the greatest book ever published The life and times of Trife Diesel, I give my heart to the public Peep how a young boy was discovered, follow me, y'all And bare witness as a nigga touch on these subjects The year was 1980, the summer was hot and hazy Reagan was president, and Nancy was the first lady Born to a Mr. and Mrs. Bailey, a healthy lad Wasn't poor, but, I didn't come from a wealthy pad Moms and dad still married, they both try'nna provide Two brothers and two sisters, I'm the youngest out of five Stapleton's where I reside, the north side of the Island Where try'nna survive was a challenge, my hood was flooded with violence And crack was the new epidemic, and by the early 90's The recall law was passed down by the Senate The Yankees just won a pennant, and Jordan was in his prime Now I'm living this life where I'm forced to (put it on the line) [Chorus] [Trife Da God] I'm on a journey, leaving no stone unturned For your concern brother, I work for all I earn Whether a crib in the p's, or a five mill mansion Showing my ass like a stripper on some high heels dancing Nowadays I'm showing expansion, controlling my team And fuck a but-but, I'm try'nna get ahold of that phantom My pops taught me how to hustle and attend to your ventures Cuz a man is not a man if he ain't got no incentitive Dealing with money, then everything has a percentage Whether street or corporate office, try to keep a good image Note these jewels I had to swallow, them words I still follow Describe all, now me and this music, we such a good combo Every 'morning' like Alonzo, I was serving indiction Getting that money, fam, no matter the weather conditions So I learned that it's better to listen, play your position If you can't take the heat, then stay the hell out the kitchen [Chorus] |
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4:41 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Jadakiss)
[Intro: Ghostface Killah] Pss.. yo, yo, yo (yo son roll!) Oh shit, yo, yo, run! [Ghostface Killah] Aiyo, I jumped from the 8th floor step, hit the ground The pound fell, cops is coming Runnin' through the pissy stairwells, I ain't hear nothin' Buggin', only thing I remember was the bullshit summon So I stopped at the second floor, ran across, cracks is fallin' My pockets is mean, clean when I vanished off Took off, made track look easy The walkie talkies them D-E-T's had, black, they was rated P.G. Run, I will not give up, no Quick, flag the car down Take me to.. Ghost, here they come now! Errr! Peel off quick, back up, hit the bitch, dog Turned downhill, light the Marley spliff Run! I will not get bagged on the rock Run! I seen what happened to Un, they bad with they cops Run! They am' shit, plan shit, destroy evidence Get cassed, I'm not comin' home with no fifty six Die with the heart of Scarface and take fifty licks Before I let these crackers throw me and shit Bounce if you a good kid, bounce, do the bird hop Curse, swerve to get served, these cocksuckers got nerve Heard I was killin' shit, they must got word That I told the chief on Rich Port I don't wanna merge [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] Run! If you sell drugs in the school zone Run! If you gettin' chased with no shoes on Run! Fuck that! Run! Cops got, guns! They givin' out life like bird tons Run! If you ain't do shit, you it That next felony, nigga, it's like three zip So, run! Hop fences, jump over benches! When you see me comin' get the fuck out the entrance! Run! Fuck that! Run! Cops got guns! Motherfucka.. [Interlude: Jadakiss (Ghostface Killah)] Ah-hah! I might gotta take my shirt off (yeah, kid...) I like that one (uh-huh, go in, go in!) [Jadakiss] Yo, uh, it's Task Force Tuesday, the NARCS is in the black car I got five hundred, hundred packs in my backyard Clear twelve-twelve's, that look like stuff shells I'm cuttin' niggaz throats on the sails, while they puff L's Don't leave nothin' unbagged, shave everything I learned from the O.G.'s to save everything (to save everything) They come by one more time, they gon' hop out They two deep, and one is a bitch, she gettin' knocked out Then I can get rid of the pack But I just copped this pretty chrome thing, so I'm dippin' with that Uh, down-shiftin' on 'em like I got gears on me (Run!) Besides that, I got about 5 years on me (Run!) Scared to death, runnin' like I got bears on me (Run!) My Timb's start feelin' like they Nike Airs on me (Run!) It's hard for me to slow down, it's like I'm on the throughway My belt's in the crib on the floor by my two-way Now I'm tryin' to hold my hammer up, and my pants too If they don't kill me, they gon' give me a number I can't do Rather it be the streets than jail where I die at And I'm asthmatic, so I'm lookin' for somewhere to hide at But they too close, and I got this new toast 'Magine if I would of let off a shot or two, you know what I gotta do [Chorus] |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Remedy - It All Comes Down To This (2010) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
[Ghostface Killah]
Oh yeah, motherfucker It's real Y'all niggas hold your guns Throw your guns down, put 'em down Yo, we in the fields with heat You fake niggas eat kid meals to meat We street referees, we rock jean jackets, thick shirts over turtlenecks Certified doctors in hoods'll steal all your techs But wait, roll cameras, Babyface money blowin like beach nut Call off the mutts, it's me again Ghost, your host this evenin (Ladies and gents I'd like to thank you all for comin out tonite) Tucks tight, all sharp, light up a bark, let's mingle Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds Flair-laided Gucci joints, I never wore I might give 'em to my brother-in-law Fitzpatrick, ribs battered, worth more than Egyptian marrows Borrow the God jewels, Gucci goggles That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five My office like Smokey's voice, little moist, but choice We guzzle Dom's, smoke the scratchy throats Live on the edge, bracelets, shades and classy coats Jungle in the club, we play Colombo Frost eat a snowman, frozen as the milky way Ice on the floor, El-Producto in the sleeve in the seam of his mink, he said "Don't drink" Think before he talked, he walked like he ordered Champ room down in Vegas, vendin machines I sip Alize' compliments of E&J Chorus: 60 Second Assassin *singing* (Ghostface) x2 The streets is rough out here Crack game came and had us years What is a man to do? (Brother) (Stay true, stay true) |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
[Chorus: sample] All my life, it's been one big struggle Born and raised... in the slums of trouble, I'm all... [Ghostface Killah] Yo, I was born and raise in New York City The home of the Yankees, the Jam Master Jay's and the Biggie's Ralph Icey's, Jet mags, cops surveillance, it's high tech Our appearance is we still in the grind, and direct But on my side of town shit's gorilla, phone booths is broke Behind the building niggaz on post What up Doc? What up Lord? I'm chilling These motherfuckers got my name and my face Placed up in every building You see what that do to the children, that ain't right I've been raised in these projects, damn near, all my life And these faggots wanna do this to me, I'ma lay low And blow that cop, son, you watch, no lie, word to my momma, dunn They don't want the drama, thunn, 'member me in '86? Knocked out four cops, got knocked on the outer bridge Bagged me with two clips, a fifth of Bacardi Dark I spared them, cause all of them left with they body parts I'm not crazy; I'm lulu, I will Larry Davis these spades You spill a little blood on the NARC's Fubu The Culture Pound'll go thru dude, and ricochet off his shoulder Miss the teeth and hit his Lo Mein noodles Fuck it.. [Chorus] [Ghostface Killah] I'ma tell ya motherfuckers something, my struggle is real Threw ketchup on my rice, cause there was no meat with the meal My dog was better off alone, he ate when I ate, if not days later Two weeks old cold shit, straight out the refrigerator Ran away a few times, then boom, went to Dee and fried them Prior to that, burning rulers, we was getting high in the Hill So many cracks we done crushed up in dollar bills It's a shame, didn't smoke once plain; don't pass me that I had escaped that, then dust took over Hit bags of red devil, bundels leaking, had put the hood in a coma Hustling backwards and off balance, turkey and cheese hero's And nutriments, kept a nigga belly full Fresh cut and fresh kicks, thinking it was cool, now I'm telling you A grown man still in the struggle, vouch for my brothers too And sisters, all across the globe, fuck the past Fix the future, I'm sent here to spread the message, come on [Chorus] |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
[ghostface killah]
Good morning, good morning Time to get up Look at the sun so pretty today It's so bright, it's so smashing Lasting, helps out the grass and Smile when it's morning time Last night I wrote 3 rhymes, I woke up to see the sun shine If, God is my witness In scriptures and pictures The sun kiss scrumptious son, it's nutricious It makes me wanna climb Take a bite out of shine This little light of mine Yo, the son could never be pussy, he always come out He'll sit right there, even if you pull your gun out He can never run out, when the lights go out If your pants turn out, a herb head spun around I see yellow and green, it's a beautiful thing The sky's blue, 'cos the sun hit the water like "bing" A reflection (uh-huh) and that's all it is (word) You can't stare at him long, cos your face'll do like this [chorus - ghostface & slick rick] Look who's shining again (oh my my my) We've been rhyming again (oh my my my) Ice be blinding the men (oh my my my) We come through time and time again (oh my my my) [raekwon] Check out my nephew He jumped up in the window just to see you Look what he drew A car, house, always wants to be with you He's just as jolly, he always begging me to let him see you I'm like "probably if you clean up, and read a little" You make people eyes glow You got the weather channel bugging and you stubborn when it snow You my mentor, mothers name their kids after you New slang, nothing personal, we knowin what you been through (sun) you roll like, one in a million yo (sun sun) you always find like, one in a building yo We those babies from day one All I had was you on my birthday baby- think you owe me one The way the world look when you around Prisoners get out, look up, run at you and then kiss the ground You my favourite, I wish we had three more of you I adore you, plus I even go to the store for you [chorus] Look who's shining again (oh my my my) We've been rhyming again (oh my my my) Ice be blinding the men (oh my my my) We come through time and time again (oh my my my) [slick rick] I would die for a sun , can being richer and cruel Reachin a full 98, and got the kids in the pool Isn't it cool how it spreads joy, hons lay in it And it's hard to go back to work, when your lunch breaks finished ? before, so it's a fact I support Feeling the warm sun rays, upon your back as you walk The heat-driven, a theory I plung to deep living is Souls have to go through the sun to reach heaven And, sensing retreat, our souls badden the scene Madame believe, since dinosaurs, and adam and eve That sun's hovered, to the extermination of us It's a peephole, which leads to the firmament above us [rza] Who can take a raindrop And turn it to 3? And drawn up 6 miles, over tropical isles And bring it to the sea [chorus] Look who's shining again (oh my my my) We've been rhyming again (oh my my my) Ice be blinding the men (oh my my my) We come through time and time again (oh my my my) |
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| from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) | |||||
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004) | |||||
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game / Clean Version (2004) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God)
[Intro: sample] War in the east, war in the west War up north, war down south [Trife Da God] Uh, welcome to Jam-rock Where niggaz get popped, buried in sandlots New York niggaz, triple they money hitting the grand spot West Coast bang for they colors and they demand blocks Stuffed in niggaz barbeque grillings, sizzling hamhocks Can't forget my mid west niggaz out in the Chi St. Louis and Tennessee, where them killas is sure to ride Shout out to my Ohio players, clocking that paper To all them fly pimps in Detroit, rocking them gators Riding around, with the top down, heat in the lap Stay balling, with the plush leather seats in the back Down in Houston, sidding sideways, chucking the deuce Popping them bottles, getting blasted over cups of that juice Dizzy stukes, niggaz blowin' off Bobby, like Whitney Houst' Grey goose with a touch of grapefruit, indeed, it get me loose We need to call a truce, for all my fallen troops Stop the warring, let's do more recording Sit back and count this loot [Chorus: Trife Da God (sample)] (War in the east) To all them dealers in the tri-state (War in the west) For all them niggaz out west, raising the crime rate (War up north) To all them killas up north, locked in the bing (war down south) For everybody down south doing they thing, come on (War in the east) To all my greasy east niggaz getting that clock right (War in the west) To all my jackets catching them fools at the stop lights (War up north) To all the heavy bidders repping in jail (War down south) To them votes, shouting the dirty south, electing that meal [Trife Da God] You can find me in the 'west', like Kanye, blowing on bombai With the killas on Crenshaw, serving up entrees Or lounging with the homies from Northstar, popping out of sportscars Niggaz wilding out in the sports bar No matter where I go, I'm still repping New York, pa You know we get it cracking when we up in the courtyard Sipping on forties of Ale, pouring liquor out For all the O.G.'s and shorties in jail And when I'm out in the Carolinas, blessing that marijuana Down in New Orleans, my niggaz wrestling anacondas Clapping them tools in Baton Rouge, provoking drama Getting it crunk in Atlanta, searching for baby mommas Philly and D.C., V.A. to B-More in a G4 I-95, making them detours South Beach, Memorial weekend hitting the sea shore And every other city we go, I'm promoting T-Dore [Chorus 2X] |
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3:55 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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3:55 |
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| from Trife Diesel - Better Late Than Never (2009) | |||||
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