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Posted By	Discussion Topic: you cant fuck with the GZA
NJopposition	posted on 02-13-2002 @ 12:11 AM
Psychopath Registered: May. 01	GOLD Intro: Method Man Aiyyo Shorty, yo that's my word Oh, y'all smellin y'all piss now y'all think y'all gold Yo anybody get caught playin Over here, I'm returnin em that's my word that they be blasted Anything from two-twenty to one-forty, that's mine Y'all need to step the fuck off Y'all niggaz ain't crazy for real Chorus: Genius Yo, the fiends ain't comin fast enough There is no cut that's pure enough I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload Product must be sold to YOU Verse One: Genius I'm deep down in the back streets - in the heart of Medina About to set off something more deep than a misdemeanor Under the subway, waiting for the train to make noise So I can blast a nigga and his boys - for what? He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales drop Like the crashin of Dow Jones stock I had to connect to cross seals, to catch more mil's Than ho-bitches got birth control pills I'm in the park, settin up a deal over blunt fire Bum niggaz sleepin on the bench, they had em wired Peeped my convo, the address of my condo And how I changed a nigga name to John Doe And while we set up camp, we got Vamp Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking fangs apart Snake got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee Blown out the frame, like Pan Am flight 103 He got swung on, his lungs was torn, the kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a pawn A regular on the block, and played look-out For playing predator with a glock, he should have took out Chorus: No neighborhood is rough enough There is no clip that's full enough I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload Product must be sold to YOU.. yo Fiends ain't comin fast enough There is no cut that's pure enough I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload Product must be sold to YOU Verse Two: Genius It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms Big apes, and spread em out like crops on a farm to get CREAM, sometimes they repaint the scene Like the last episode on gates and other niggaz plant bombs til the smoke from the blast becomes thick and flows through all they knew, he's gun sick His glock clicks, like high-heeled shoes on parquay floors Mad sick, stand on hills and invade wars Filthy foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to hurt For instance, chop off hands, attack worth His idols would lock down airports and extort some import, catchin ten percent of what the fiends snort Up in the ski resorts, up in hills They move keys and had skis making drops on snowmobiles The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers And live large and bigger than my nigga Who promised his moms a mansion with mad rooms She died, and he still put a hundred grand in her tomb Open wounds, he hid behind closed doors And still organized his crime and drug wars Chorus: Fiends ain't comin fast enough There is no cut that's full enough I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload Product must be sold to YOU No neighborhood is rough enough There is no clips that's full enough I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload Product must be sold to YOU The peers that come is tight enough There is no niggaz that's fuckin up I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload Product must be sold, to YOU
itsamiata	posted on 02-13-2002 @ 10:10 AM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 01	Unless you are RZA. :) RZA making some of the best and most creative beats ever. Artist: RZA Album: Bobby Digital in Digital Bullet Title: Brooklyn Babies feat. Force MD's, Masta Killa, Tiffany [Tiffany] Bobby, I'm tired of yo' shit, nigga! I'm tired of you comin' in at 3 o'clock in the mornin' Nigga, you got a family here You act like you don't fuckin' know that shit Nigga, what the fuck? [RZA {*overlapped by chorus*}] Yo, yo, yo, yo.. Growin' up in crazy Cali Yo, yo, yo.. [Chorus 1 - Force MD's] Digital, these niggas should be crazy Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby Bedstuy, this is my life.. [RZA] Yo, yo, yo.. A Brooklyn baby, I was bron up in King's County Inside the womb seven months before the Queen found me Up in wroughty Brownsville with fiends around me Now roam gat in Staten with Cream Team around me They called me Bobby, cousin, really got the black Harley Taught his son how to spike cats like Lee Harvey Oswald, all's well that ends well My big brother Divine, he pushed the Benz well I got the cherry Range, broke and rockin' heavy chains I'm from the tribe of men who would bury Kings On the back of the A-train, my daydream Should I make a phat hit or should I take CREAM? From the Clan that taught you Cash Rules I make soul grind tracks, you grab ass too Give respect to the Prince when he pass through Might have a chocolate deluxe in a glass shoe Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi Two-two in front of the Jakes like Jack Ruby Live on TV where you see B-O-B-B-Y D-I-G-I-T-A-L, A-L, things ain't too well [Chorus 1] [Chorus 2 - Force MD's] Digital, these niggas should be crazy Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby This is how I live my life.. [Masta Killa] Yeah.. Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X Shot dice on green, we live from Calasky y'all It's Fred Glassy, zig-zag-zig through traffic Get the herb, get the God, peace Ra' What's the word on things? Through the phone I heard the bangin' sounds in the background, layin' down I'm spittin' what the people missin' We extreme with the murder type theme Don't sleep, get ya head split to the white meat Big guns, down South we blaze Shippin' bodies back up North, it's the Weston Wild Texan, no trespassin' Long mics hit the dead arm Planet Earth, home of Islam Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn Rough tacklin' the streets, Allah Math' spine Technics We bring heat to the block party, drinkin' Bacardi Baggin' shorties for the homies who ain't here [Chorus - both to fade] [Tiffany {*overlapped by chorus*}] Bobby, that's right, you ain't shit, nigga You ain't shit, but a big dick and a mothafuckin' cheque All that fuckin' Brooklyn shit, Shaolin shit Nigga, grow the fuck up! What the fuck is up with you, nigga? You ain't shit, nigga Comin' in high off that shit What the fuck? I'm tired of yo' shit What the fuck is that shit anyway? What the fuck? And your cousin Billy, I'm sick of that mothafucka That mothafucka could never come up in this mothafuckin' house ever again He's a criminal mothafuckin' gangsta, see that shit? A criminal, I'm sick of that shit I'm sick of yo' shit, Bobby {*echoes*} Brooklyn this, Shaolin that What the fuck, nigga? I don't know why I love your stupid ass anyway Pssh.. but I do love you Bobby

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