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  • 作词 : Duplessis, Jean
    Intro:
    Y'all know y'all done messed up now right?
    Mmmm mmmm, fo' real
    [opera singing]
    You know, you messed up, I'm not laughing
    All y'all beats is soundin the same, y'all rhymin the same
    Some of y'all even wearing the same jewelry
    And y'all doin the same videos
    Shut up, you know you messed up right?
    That's why they brought me back in this game
    To bring it right back to the essence, mmm hmmm
    Oh yeah, and all this kill this, kill that, kill this
    Lemme tell you somethin, [what, what]
    The real killers, they're standin right over there
    Waitin for you to act like a killer, so they can kill you
    Yo Sedeck, do me a favor yo
    Yo tell everybody on this side of the stage
    To just move back a little cuz it's about to get real rowdy
    in the front yo, they comin yo
    I could never forget the underground hip hop
    I'ma dedicate this to everybody that knew me when I was broke
    Workin at Burger King, hustlin dime bags on a twelve speed bicycle
    All the projects man, youknowwhatimsayin?
    Yo
    HOOK:
    Every time I keep pullin out, y'all keep pullin me in, sin
    Kick a little somethin for the New Jerusalem
    Let people know you aint forget where you came from, where you came from
    Every time I keep pullin out, y'all keep pullin me in, sin
    Kick a little somethin for the street DJs
    Let people know you aint forget where you came from, where you came from
    [Verse 1]
    Yo, yo this probably the hardest verse that I ever recite
    I'm in the studio with a gun in my neck it's all right
    Surrounded by gangsters, I don't know how they got here
    But I feel like the Haitian Frank Sinatra, in his young years
    New York, on my way to Kennedy airport
    L.A., I was told wear colors wherever you walk
    Dirt, dirty south, I heard they run up in your house
    Shakespeare, no time to jive blast your girl through the blouse
    What? MCs, y'all aint nothing but assassins
    Every two lines is killin, or incarceration
    Murderation, closed casket cremation
    Closest you got to prison was seein barson television
    But I'ma go long as this thug phenomenon
    Pass me a bandanna, two shots from my Mag-num
    All of that, to get your attention
    Here's a few things I been dyin to mention
    Anyone talk about guns, I'ma buy the cartel
    Any more beats soundin the same, I'ma put your MPC to cell
    Listen, reminiscing on Nas, *It Aint Hard To Tell*
    Still feel like somebody's watching me like Rockwell
    Talk about diamonds, I'ma kidnap Jacob
    Talk about the Fugees, I'ma break up the make up
    Put your stake up, I'm about to work my way back to the streets
    And y'all wanna bootleg cuz y'all will get Jay-Z
    HOOK [variations]
    Kick a little something for the projects Clef
    Kick a little something for the hip hop fans
    [Verse 2]
    Hip hop fans, y'all like the woman in my house
    No matter how faithful I am, y'all still have your doubts
    Talkin bout, is he real in this relationship
    Or did he go pop, and on the side get a mistress
    My mistress is a guitar, classical like Mozart
    Paint murder on the wall just to show y'all some art
    And y'all wanna start, and lose body parts
    I suggest you start walkin, tell your man stop talking
    You know the scenario, the innocent is always the first to go
    And Dorothy sings somewhere over the rainbow
    Kum Ba Ya, got you trapped in barbed wire
    **** delivery, but I'm the ghost writer
    Tall tribes of Juda, deeper than books
    Watch what you cook cuz you might get hooked
    Man... I miss real MCs
    Like Kool G Rap, written in graffiti
    Before the plane, I used to take the train
    Watch fiends puttin up they vein, moms raisin caine
    Able's on the roof, cook like a goose
    To calm my nerve, I drink Vodka 180 proof
    I'm back in the shack, lay flat on my back
    Two choices, sell rap or sell crack
    Chose sell rap, but watch my back like I'm sellin crack
    Cuz the music industry is the same street format
    I sold y'all Nappy Heads, to The Score, to The Carnival
    But yet y'all still wanted more
    Since Sedeck went back, came off wit a break
    I blend so perfect, that you would want it for your mixtape
    [beatbox]
    HOOK [variations]
    Kick a little something for the brothers up north
  • 作词 : Duplessis, Jean
    Intro:
    Y'all know y'all done messed up now right?
    Mmmm mmmm, fo' real
    [opera singing]
    You know, you messed up, I'm not laughing
    All y'all beats is soundin the same, y'all rhymin the same
    Some of y'all even wearing the same jewelry
    And y'all doin the same videos
    Shut up, you know you messed up right?
    That's why they brought me back in this game
    To bring it right back to the essence, mmm hmmm
    Oh yeah, and all this kill this, kill that, kill this
    Lemme tell you somethin, [what, what]
    The real killers, they're standin right over there
    Waitin for you to act like a killer, so they can kill you
    Yo Sedeck, do me a favor yo
    Yo tell everybody on this side of the stage
    To just move back a little cuz it's about to get real rowdy
    in the front yo, they comin yo
    I could never forget the underground hip hop
    I'ma dedicate this to everybody that knew me when I was broke
    Workin at Burger King, hustlin dime bags on a twelve speed bicycle
    All the projects man, youknowwhatimsayin?
    Yo
    HOOK:
    Every time I keep pullin out, y'all keep pullin me in, sin
    Kick a little somethin for the New Jerusalem
    Let people know you aint forget where you came from, where you came from
    Every time I keep pullin out, y'all keep pullin me in, sin
    Kick a little somethin for the street DJs
    Let people know you aint forget where you came from, where you came from
    [Verse 1]
    Yo, yo this probably the hardest verse that I ever recite
    I'm in the studio with a gun in my neck it's all right
    Surrounded by gangsters, I don't know how they got here
    But I feel like the Haitian Frank Sinatra, in his young years
    New York, on my way to Kennedy airport
    L.A., I was told wear colors wherever you walk
    Dirt, dirty south, I heard they run up in your house
    Shakespeare, no time to jive blast your girl through the blouse
    What? MCs, y'all aint nothing but assassins
    Every two lines is killin, or incarceration
    Murderation, closed casket cremation
    Closest you got to prison was seein barson television
    But I'ma go long as this thug phenomenon
    Pass me a bandanna, two shots from my Mag-num
    All of that, to get your attention
    Here's a few things I been dyin to mention
    Anyone talk about guns, I'ma buy the cartel
    Any more beats soundin the same, I'ma put your MPC to cell
    Listen, reminiscing on Nas, *It Aint Hard To Tell*
    Still feel like somebody's watching me like Rockwell
    Talk about diamonds, I'ma kidnap Jacob
    Talk about the Fugees, I'ma break up the make up
    Put your stake up, I'm about to work my way back to the streets
    And y'all wanna bootleg cuz y'all will get Jay-Z
    HOOK [variations]
    Kick a little something for the projects Clef
    Kick a little something for the hip hop fans
    [Verse 2]
    Hip hop fans, y'all like the woman in my house
    No matter how faithful I am, y'all still have your doubts
    Talkin bout, is he real in this relationship
    Or did he go pop, and on the side get a mistress
    My mistress is a guitar, classical like Mozart
    Paint murder on the wall just to show y'all some art
    And y'all wanna start, and lose body parts
    I suggest you start walkin, tell your man stop talking
    You know the scenario, the innocent is always the first to go
    And Dorothy sings somewhere over the rainbow
    Kum Ba Ya, got you trapped in barbed wire
    **** delivery, but I'm the ghost writer
    Tall tribes of Juda, deeper than books
    Watch what you cook cuz you might get hooked
    Man... I miss real MCs
    Like Kool G Rap, written in graffiti
    Before the plane, I used to take the train
    Watch fiends puttin up they vein, moms raisin caine
    Able's on the roof, cook like a goose
    To calm my nerve, I drink Vodka 180 proof
    I'm back in the shack, lay flat on my back
    Two choices, sell rap or sell crack
    Chose sell rap, but watch my back like I'm sellin crack
    Cuz the music industry is the same street format
    I sold y'all Nappy Heads, to The Score, to The Carnival
    But yet y'all still wanted more
    Since Sedeck went back, came off wit a break
    I blend so perfect, that you would want it for your mixtape
    [beatbox]
    HOOK [variations]
    Kick a little something for the brothers up north