Lyrics:
It's hell up in Harlem, my main man just caught a bad one
Wetted by a magnum when he didn't have none
That goes to show you that even when you're
fell in love, you got shot by Cupid
You haunt me and taunt me because my name is worth money
I give you some love, and now you seem to act funny
Was
to death that's painted by the numbers
With crime unapplied pressure, cats is playing God
But having children by a lesser baby mother but fuck it
We
from Brooklyn to Chi-Town
See the artillery, we don't fuck around with silly games, plenty
thangs
Nigga plus I got an illy aim, stick 'em up, steal
Yea, so we got this tune called "for women" right
Originally, it was by nina simone
She said it was inspired by, you know
Down south, in the south,
juvenile
Thin line between getting Bucks and gettin' wild
Brooklyn style, hundred thousand miles
Parquet tiles, leavin' ankles broke in a pile
Son got
yeah
Yes the Redman is what they call me
Rarrarh
Busta Rhymes now
Rah! Rah!
Phife Dawg
Five Foot invasion son
Live and direct!
Dilla, by way
at what they made me
I'm part of the reason they still Crippin' out in Brooklyn
Before I was an artist I would book 'em, mm
Push ya shit back while
the profit get sacrificed by the Oxy
Get ratchet when ratchets out and they firing
Residue on pinata's, wonder what's up inside of 'em
It's sure ain't no
street niggas, while you live by the book
Funny nigga, ain't no need to shoot yourself in the foot
Fuck wit bitches that's getting doe and they know how
[Hook by Blam]
This is sumtn' 4 urrbody get yo' hands up
On the grind, money on yo' mind get yo' grands up
If you on top getting hella guap stand up
to have a good time why?
Somebody always fuckin' it up, killin' my high, damn
Monkey wrench they whole program, party over
By that time I'm dead sober
to hang out with
Talk that shit to just my Brooklyn niggas
All I would wonder is when will my time come
Had mad jobs and I lost damn near all of them
buckers
Over Brooklyn, over Queens, and over Rutgers
Over red, and over blue, and over chuckers
Over red and over blue and under covers
Tribal trouble
no one)
No one to hang out with talk that s*** to,
Just my Brooklyn n****s
All I would wonder is when will my time come
Had mad jobs and I lost
of a building
Your body's found by children
Playin' hide go seek
All we found was his skeleton
In the back of a car
You spawned with the wrong guard
You know my
juvenile
Thin line between getting Bucks and gettin' wild
Brooklyn style, hundred thousand miles
Parquet tiles, leavin' ankles broke in a pile
Son got
Brownson
Once you hear the whistle, even Grandmas is stackin' up on old wooden pistols
Nobody's thinking by the time you're done blinking
Cold freezer,
around with p
Hey yo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through
Word is bi-dond, rock esco, fubu,
at the way the coast to coast g do it
From the Brooklyn to the Bay
Bring the hook in by the way
Automatic, Systematic
Do what you do playa
Just keep
From departure to arrival
What does it mean to travel
With your suitcase by the handle
Holding everything you need
Are you going or are you
drummer beater
Brown sugar is sweeter beats by Peter
Like I said before, thump in my trunk
That's all I really need and
A bag of blue funk
La la la la la
Benedict Arnold i'll calm you
You ain't wild I heard this kid
In Brooklyn do the same style
Timing for timing your rhymin'
And with that biddy bye bye follow
Leave him with his socks, hard bottoms and bloomers on
And hang him by his balls from the horn of a unicorn
Y'all niggas intellect mad slow, y'all fags
_(Cropped).jpg/250px-Eminem_-_Concert_for_Valor_in_Washington,_D.C._Nov._11,_2014_(2)_(Cropped).jpg "Eminem")
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