Bizzy:Yeah, this for all you non-believers, especially out in the
C-O. Man, fuck y'all niggas.Yeah, I'm (tatted) so when
I die, you can see what's deep in my eye [my eye].Maje:7
Sign . . .Bizzy:Voodoo got you, too, who shot you, who pop you,
glock you and stop you [stop you, stop you].Voodoo got you, too,
who shot you, who glock you, pop you and stop you [stop you, stop
you].Nigga, this Mo Thug and we can get fucked-up even if
I'm under surveillance, I watch out, wanna win, and fuck
'em up daily, throwin' up 7, what am I yellin'?
Murderer. Nigga, once you come must be like crazy if you
[Muthafucka, don't play me] play me. Nigga, not today. I
see you but you can't see me. I know with all of government
and, yes, this will get crazy and blow [bomb, bomb, bomb,
bomb].Maje:Got your mind blown, vocal tones keep it sewn,
blastin' out your stereos or your headphones. The roots
exploited clones; therefore, it's my job to describe the
loudness, the habitat of rap survival kit. Artistic skin
abrasion, so when 'em fadin' my worldly reflections,
it's magnified to new levels of elevation.Bizzy:Seven sign,
seven, seven sign, seven, seventh sign, C-O.Yeah, now y'all
know, yeah.Yeah, I'm tatted so when I die, you can see
what's deep in my eye [my eyes, my eyes].Now, voodoo got
you, then, who shot you, who pop you, glock you and stop you
[stop you, stop you].Look who got you, too, who shot you, who
pop you, glock you and stop you [stop you, stop you].Bizzy:The
Rip here to run in the street, and flippin' on police, yeah
they know me, I'm not lonely, only, show me when the smoke
clears, and at least I had my homie and a nigga, K, homie. All
bitches, look into it as you want the real killa? Well, pull out
your pistol, bitch, and shoot it, shoot it. And you knew it, too,
when, when you looked in my eyes, I'm ready to die. And I
hope my mama really loves me, 'cause daddy's bye-bye.
Inner pride with the Ripsta, let 'em hit ya with the
scripture, picture me loc'd out and smoked out with a half
of fifth of (?).Maje:Three sixty-five out of all the round
trees, they'll be Japanese, Maje's corruptin'
record companies. Nigga, jump for cheese, catch sub-zero freeze
and crack once the atmosphere brings the temperature back,
slacks only in dress pants, have you ever danced with the devil
in pale moonlight? I have. Hollywood niggas make me laugh. Sell
a dream to 'em. Cash, no royality, grab they royal keys and
dash. My overhead projects how ends meet to get fouled or
ejected, lyrics was selected beyond my control, last door on the
totem pole, pockets swoll from tape residue, last interview at
Wendy's, Dave Thomas made a promise to let down smooth
criminals gently if I'm fittin' to grab your earlobe
and billion, this is big business, buy tapes, don't lend,
niggas lent (?) while I scrap change for phillies, why grill me?
Got bigger balls to chase waterfalls with Chili, explore on four
wheels or foot, I bring it to that ass over the hook so when you
slip, gossip. I ride up on it. I had to maintain my mental frame,
andnow I'm Boneless, word sound 'til I'm
foamin'. Cybergenics wanted my genes for clonin'.
Disownin' heads like Romans fight rubber Trojans. More than
civil suits make my longevity boost, articles and promotions make
me more potent. Deadly to the mind, 'causin'
somethin' to be blind, redefine lines entertwined with all
mankind. Would that rain outshine divine Maje shame, the boogie
down Bronx is where the heart still remain.Bizzy:I'm a let
a nigga know, you know what I'm sayin', just right off
the bat. I gives a fuck about no nigga. Don't be no
(corvie)-ass nigga. I'm tryin' to tell niggas that off
the rip, off the rippa, baby.[I must be losin' my mind . .
.] I must be.Where's the mob? Find your specialty,
let's give this nigga a job. Is you ready for jail? Yes and
no, but somebody's gonna try to rob. We can spar, but you
gon' drop [drop], I'm a bomb, ready for war, will I
p-pop pop, better look out for miles, been doomed since the
womb. Will he put me in my tomb? I've been thuggin' so
assume when I enter your room, boom. Stomped through Compton and
cities y'all ain't never heard of, and listen, I bet
there's thousand people screamin' out "murder,
murderin' ya." Hypnotized, took off my shirt, I got a (?).
I'm tatted so when I die you can see what's deep my
eyes. Trues ride but trues die, my nigga, don't cry, I
shedded my last tear when I found out love was a lie. So I try,
but it ain't nothin' for my mental. So piss off my
pencil, and I blast, dash in a rental. One nigga got (?) and off
he in a trap with sawed-off they took a chance and lost,
let's spray AK and make gangsta gone, don't finish the
wars when they ain't over, I love you thugs, but all them
skeletons got so close and they got so (?) if it ain't (?),
this family that don't give a fuck who you are. It
ain't nothin' like some trouble. How close? How far
[how far, how far]?
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