Текст (слова) песни: Shyheim - 21st Century Crisis

 
[Intro: Shyheim] 
Flick up your lighters (yeah, uh) 
Flick up your lighters (yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, Bottom Up! yeah) 
Flick up your lighters (Ay, 2Pac already told y`all moron) 
Who got beef, I`m just here to reinform my shit 
You know, you done did Big, you done did Craig Mack 
Man, you did Shyheim (New York, New York) You did the kid 
That`s how we gon` do it, we gon` this real clever 
From the Staten Island connection, oh 
 
[Chorus: Shyheim] 
I`m the 21st Century Crisis, run with two five-to-lifers 
That buck at bikers, get booked on Riker`s 
I`m the 21st Century Crisis, I`m a fighter 
Flick up your lighters, for your nigga 
With bigger website, despite us 
I`m the 21st Century Crisis, run with two five-to-lifers 
That buck at bikers, get booked on Riker`s 
21st Century Crisis, I`m a fighter 
Flick up your lighters, my nigga 
 
[Shyheim] 
I`m street intelligent 
Puffin` that drink with Lazanet, that get an elephant 
Get out of line, like them little kid, colorin` 
I body your ass, then bury your ass, then dig you 
Back the fuck up, and shoot up your skeletons 
For talkin` all that jazz, like you Duke Ellington 
I melt your shit, like when Sundew, people with no melennin 
Shy, the 21st Century Crisis, spittin` shit 
And piss on rappers, like they C.O.`s on Riker`s 
Death arrive, the last face you`ll ever see is Shy`s 
And my hand`s wrapped around more necks than Armani ties 
Came through in the M-5, tinted and kitted 
The color of spinach, with Monica and Mya in it 
I inspired, The Boy Is Mine Remix 
And the begets on my wrists be the size of Cheez-It`s 
I`ve been gettin` it, ever since I could remember 
That`s why I post a million dollar bail like Baretta 
I crush your mic, I crush your mic twice 
I move like Saddam, I got twenty look-a-likes 
Wear twenty different color Nike`s 
I`m like Ghost, I keep a bird on my arm flooded with ice 
 
[Chorus] 
 
[Interlude: Shyheim] 
Yeah, flick up your lighters 
It`s Bottom Up, nigga 
 
[Shyheim] 
I bust your head open, with an 40 ounce of Old English 
Then be thinkin` to myself, I could of, should of drinked it 
As a man think of inner thoughts 
So he in, deep inside your pudding, you don`t want it with kid 
Who got it on with the dogs, and every jail of my bid 
Had a scalpal put up my ass, not on no faggot shit 
Twenty one guns a year, that`s what my average is 
And I ain`t gon` quit, until you get my enemies 
The what? Out the whip, I`m the dude that they love to hate 
Hate that they love, with too much street drama 
To be in somebody`s club, so I`m cautious 
Cuz I know shit that get funky, just like horse shit 
Like I could be dead or in jail, by the morning 
All everybody else`ll be doing is talking 
About the unfortunate, let a couple years fly by 
Everybody forget, it`s like you gone in the wind 
You going to the pen, but y`all don`t hear me though 
Let me say the shit again, like you gone in the wind 
You going to the pen, twenty years will make a friend 
One day to lose a friend, that`s why I speak less and listen more 
 
[Chorus] 
 
[Outro: Shyheim] 
Flick up your lighters, flick up your lighters 
I`m the 21st Century Crisis, and that means 
Man, I`m bringing it back to New York 
Staten Island, New York (put ten years on this beat) 
Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, Manhattan, Uptown (cock that shit) 
You know takin` my early days, let`s take this shit back 
New York, New York, that`s where I`m from
 

Другие песни Shyheim :

21st Century Crisis
After All These Years
Life as a Shorty