Текст (слова) песни: Twista f Freeway, Memphis Bleek, Young C - Art & Life

 
[Intro: Young Chris] 
Yeah.. 
Young Chris, M-eez, my nigga Free-Wheez 
The boy Twista 
Holla 
 
My life on the track (Okay) 
Up and comin` 
State Prop Chain gang (That`s right) 
Get low (Get low) 
 
It`s the Roc in the building nigga 
(Holla...Yeah) 
It`s the motherfuckin` Roc bitch, who hotter than us? 
(Okay, okay) 
 
[Young Chris] 
Ayo..ever since a young buck, I been on the come up 
Known to dish the raw, dish the law if they come up 
And cheddar `till the sun up.. 
If there`s a ransom and the law get involved, then we never get it summed up 
Never put ya gun up, if ya come round me 
I go to war wit` niggaz `round the corner from `round me 
You could front `round me, but I read through that 
Wit` the mili` and I ain`t talkin` `bout no Segal mac 
Niggaz see shoot back, we can see to that 
Hit yo front letters see through back, bring yo peoples back 
And I used to grind out on my friend`s spot 
`til he`s mom wanted my Tim-bots 
Now my paint got me discounts 
Or trans-quo all around the world, like I was signed to Pimp-dot 
And if it`s ten targets and I got ten shots 
I`m tryin` to leave at least nine out of them ten shot.. 
 
[Memphis Bleek] 
I got my mind on my money, money on mind 
But some say its a gift, I don`t write but I rhyme 
I, complete songs with just one try 
Tell `em it`s no lie, I beef all my life...dogg 
I never think, it`s already there 
I find ways to say it, so you motherfuckers hear it 
And when you hear it you feel it, you know its real so 
This is how I live it, how it`s pictured for real...nigga 
I`m shittin` for real 
Diamonds against wood, underground king for real 
Big crib when I lay, yeah I`m livin` for real 
Trust me the guns come off the shelf whenever shit`ll get real 
Automatics and extended clips, that`s what I`m hittin` wit` 
Dummies in the black rhinoes 
Yeah, they be killin` shit 
Masked up kidnap shit, that`s how my niggaz get 
Chi-town, NYC, that`s how my niggaz get.. 
 
[Freeway] 
Yes, just picture me rollin` 
The smith and wesson`ll stay goin` put a hole in yo chest 
It`s just, another hustle paper gettin` made and fold 
Get mad, you street niggaz finally made it 
I swoop five, he know the ride, heavily loaded 
Deliver pies like cake, they go straight through yo payment...yup! 
Chump...you don`t really wanna war 
With the State Prop clique, if ya clique shot us, squad up 
S-P game so damn tough, the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya`ll can`t hang 
Transporter turned rapper, get a camcorder film my life 
Still acclompished, tryin` to fill they cups 
The rap version of Mandela, call my bluff 
We still the street dwellers, feel my pain (my pain) 
I spit a verse and split a clip in the rain 
A fool-proof when the full force open you up (what!) 
 
[Twista] 
Twista will rock you, you don`t want the thug apostle to pop you 
Hostile when I drop you, turnin` everything colossal to fossiles 
I speak street gospel, all they life I spit words and paint portraits 
For real niggaz that hold down they fortress and serve off of porches 
Hit `em in the body wit` the powerful forces, that`ll end all your doubt 
Make you clean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit the dance floor and bounce 
We blessed wit` the talent, fuck wit this clique, it ain`t gon` be easy 
`Cause you fuckin` wit` Twist if you fuck wit Chris, Bleek and Free-wheezy 
So speak and breath easy... Or the scutches my future in 3D 
I like wars, I`m from a city full of Vice Lords, and GD`s 
Breeds and Souls, 2-6`s, Kings, BD`s and Stones 
Spanish cobras and all the true soldiers, survive and I`m gone! 
Watch me spit if for the killers and hustler`s, flippin` all the pounds and bricks 
Hate on me I`ma bust at you hoes, and I put eleven down wit` a clip 
Niggaz servin` fiftys and hundreds, when I see you and I`m on yo tip 
Twista and this East-Coast regime, it`s that chi-roc shit
 

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