| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:32 | 
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(Intro)
Our society is fucked up, they're fucking our brothers and sisters up These white motherfuckers have fucked us up... This ain't by no goddamn accident... Cameras, action, lights What, lookout, civil rights Whiplash, po-po, fed-lillers, killin' kids Crisis, c'mon, get it now, sound COINTEL, going down Projects, pop offs, issues, payback Sickness, lockdown, get it Free Mumia and H. Rap Brown Before you get what you want, gotta give the people what they need What you know about Soul If you got's none then we'll loan ya some... C'mon! Flow on, the project, the pop off Low tempo to go off, COINTEL better go to hell Bout that time hear the bell y'all .. (c'mon) Gotta lotta nerve never knowing Assata Gotcha mind wading in the water.. contract.. Gotcha! Motown, Stax, bring the beat back (Bring that beat back!) The Sound, free Mumia and H. Rap Brown Sure enough going down now Jamil Al Amin, nahmean? (yeah) Y'all missin' this is like dissin' this See your Uncle Sam pissing on this He's running real low on my shit list Take 'em all out with the quickness Before you get what you want, gotta give the people what they need Before you get what you want, gotta give the people what they need Cameras, action, lights What, lookout, civil rights Whiplash, po-po, fed-lillers, killin' kids Crisis, c'mon, get it now, sound COINTEL, going down Lookout! Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need New breed of MC and get the flow on Body, mind, soul enough to go on Ughh!! Better go on Gotta get on so I can spit on Guitar to get on the pick on (damn) Shuffle now, the popcorn Free H. Rap c'mon Nothing new uhh.. better walk on Ughhh... get my talk on Never knew a {?} to get your money on So on and so on Do it like Mike - "Sha-mon!" The original right here, Uptown Saturday Night Uggghhh, get it, and get your head right... Ya'll don't know nothin' about this ... ughhh Real thing ughhh make your soul ring Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need Cameras, action, lights What, lookout, civil rights Whiplash, po-po, fed-lillers, killin' kids Crisis, c'mon, get it now, sound COINTEL, going down Going down, going down, going down, going down Going down, going down, going down, going down Going down, going down, going down, going down Going down, down, down, down |
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| 2. |
| 3:58 | 
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| 3. |
| 4:01 |
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feat. Havoc (Mobb Deep)
[talking] Yeah nigga... haha yeah (South Suicide Queens) That's right... uh uh, Q.U. nigga (yea yea) Shit like that, knowhamsayin put these drinks up yaheard? - let's do this right, what yo [Fredro Starr] Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block For my one stop niggaz that be huggin the spot Sittin on crates, gettin loaded, get that cake Dodgin drinks, spit and hafta cover they face Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side See no games, with real niggaz from other hoods Car titles get lost, some niggaz get jooked But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam Holdin the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof To them slick dudes, hot and they workin the phone booth Cuz Lord knows I'm gonna reload and bust back Incredible gats, indicted for a federal rap They ain't duck low enough, shots shredded they hat Murdered and gone, nigga it's a medical fact [Hook: Havoc] - 2X Hold up, this is for my gangsta team and my dime little mamis rockin Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin bent, goin cra-zay! [Sonsee] Hold up, this is for my chicks in the spot All my bus stop bitches that be pushin them drops Playin the gate, get it ma, get those papes Hustle that face, seven G's below ya waist Project chick, dippin whips, cruisin the strip Gettin money for tuition, go to school and she strip Kill in the club, when niggaz dicks get hard Murda mami set you up and niggaz bricks get robbed Help her soul if a chick try to set my team I'm tying her up, rep till the death of Queens All my staircase niggaz keep flippin the jun's All my outta state niggaz keep gettin them ones Guns in the air, hit you with invisible glocks that mean you never see it comin nigga, 52 shots I'm takin ya block nigga, if you like it or not You either roll or get rushed (blaow bloaw!) I guess not [Hook: Havoc] - 2X [Sticky Fingaz] Sticky Fingaz, the nigga that be stickin them spots For all my gun-cock niggaz that be bustin off shots Lay in the straight, black mask raidin ya gate Show me ya safe before I put two in ya face Dirt on my kicks, hoodies all lookin for whips Catch a rat nigga, leave his Bentley sittin on bricks Bloody ice-pick fights in the yard Ten times outta ten, step to me and ya life get scarred Shoot-outs in broad daylight, bustin at feds Dirty cops with a ki of coke, bring 'em out dead For my jail niggaz, stashin bangers deep in they cots For my grimy niggaz, hidin under cars from cops Empty the glock, hitchu with disposable gats Bust you, wipe it off, throw it away, it's a rap What nigga? I see you back in the hood scrap Turn ya Benz to a coffin nigga, straight like that [Hook: Havoc] - 2X Hold up... 'South Suicide Queens' 'Enjoy!' 'South Suicide Queens' 'Enjoy!' |
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| 4. |
| 4:15 |
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| 5. |
| 3:56 |
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Uh-huh, whatchu thought? Uh-huh, we was done?
Uh-huh, whatchu thought?! Yeah, yeah Yeah, whatchu thought? Uhh, uhh, uhh Yo, yo, back again! What's that? Back again! What's that? Word! see'mon A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! Yo, yo, yo, check it, check it Let us begin, KRS, winnin again, KRS-One did it again KRS bigger than them, look at them they bit it again I think my gun just gonna start clickin again Click-clack, I always spit back Anybody call my name I go get that In fact we draggin 'em out, to a deserted route The teacher returns, you must learn, the word is out No doubt highly respected, Front Page Records Off the hook, yet still connected Are you teachin yourself, teachin yourself? I'm like history repeatin itself "Criminal Minded", you've been blinded again Lookin for my style you can't find it again You can find these others that may sound like Kris but when it comes to the hands they don't get down like Kris! They never ran up in the clubs with a hundred thugs Never had the respect of Crips and Bloods Never knew B.O., they never knew Big Pun They never battled MC's, they never bust they gun They don't know that, all they know is that show DAT That's Digital Audio Tape if you don't know that Now go back and get my name correct 'fore I snatch that platinum from 'round your neck A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! Word, yeah yeah, uh-huh, yo Yo, yo, yo (hit 'em Kris!) What mean the world to me? H-I-P, H-O-P And S-I-M, O-N-E And G-O-D, I stay low key I go down to hell, and slap up Satan Then return to heaven, where Scott LaRock is waitin Resurrection, just like my brown complexion when I speak, I don't need protection from the heat I walk these streets and I'm quick to hit first Throw on any beat I'll be quick to spit first and rip town, I take one look around And all you hear is, "Get down, get down, get down!" Knowledge Reigns Supreme, I stay on blast That's why these rappers want me to go on last That's the truth, that's the fact, that's the deal Forget sex appeal, my tech is real And my rep is real, K-are-S Woo-woop-woop! That's the sound of E-M-S The rag on your head, it best stay white Cause I can turn that red in a mintue a-ight? Now go back and get my name correct 'fore I snatch them diamonds from 'round your neck Once again, get my name correct 'fore I snatch that platinum from 'round your neck A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! Yeah.. yeah.. yo, yo, yo To all my heads who want to see an improvement in hip-hop culture, join this movement We need more glocks than my man Freddie Foxxx The knowledge I spit to the click it don't stop That hardcore God-core, ready to start war Rock more shock more top your pop tour I'm sure I'll drop the grade to zero When the teacher return, I don't chase DeNiro Like where yo? Where yo? They livin in fear yo It's a jungle sometime, but I got my spear yo The album's called "Sneak Attack", that's what it is KRS-One spittin facts to kids A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG A real thug is a thug that's HUSH! |
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| 6. |
| 4:07 |
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Yo yo yo yo
[Chorus:] Y'all want some hip hop, then holler HELL YEAH Y'all want some hip hop, then scream HELL YEAH Feel this hip hop, and yell HELL YEAH Y'all know we 'bout to bring it here, fake cats get up outta here [Repeat Chorus] [Verse 1:] See whatcha like gimme the mic I'm rippin and flippin and grippin it tight Say whatcha like, don't play with me right? I ride your chain from day to night Head first with a verse You see my excerpts got eskimos in igloos sweatin and seek in search In self-worth, through the knowledge that all age enter the earth Till the devils and his dogs I fool I'll be the fuckin curse Spit fire more fire with my nigga Fire I backflip blindfolded on a highwire Then fall back on my team and dream of lividcism I met Noah before the ark and started rhymin with him If I wanted to flow with him reactin like a cataclysm And shockwavin my rights into the system [Chorus] [Verse 2:] Now set trippin and sweatin the aesthetics The chick's beef hits your ass up like diabetics I bet it gets, I wrestle it, second album be the predicate No mismatches, no maxin or relaxin Toast with the awesome two, break it like your fractions Peep the equation, these Pythagorean thereom I know the science for the metals and all the plenums Until you hate it, young children have been mutilated It looks good and some of y'all be desecratin Incineratin wastin your state in the outer space It's wicked right I hit it right slice doors with a butter knife I'm makin moves on the mic like I was dice Y'all want some hip hop, then holler HELL YEAH Y'all want some hip hop, then scream HELL YEAH Feel this hip hop, and yell HELL YEAH Y'all know we 'bout to bring it here, we transcend we outta here [Chorus] [Verse 3:] Tippin you off bringin it forth, knowledge be the jump-off Wax on wax off, liquid form-I turn to hot sauce While some may want they salad tossed I can bust like Matatov Now get your saddle off, quit bustin, no towelin off Some pip squeaks in the game night ride like Hasslehoff Stand back to your skin and feel my G-force Tic tac toein I keep it flowin and flowin No need for detonators my shit be mind blowin Blind the sights likes of Ihmotep Flippin the script ring the alarm like Ghengis Khan Who rocks all takes all kick it like Win Chaw Or ping pong crackin the mic, the dreaded King Kong [Chorus] Y'all want some hip hop, then holler HELL YEAH Y'all want some hip hop, then scream HELL YEAH Feel this hip hop, and yell HELL YEAH Y'all know we 'bout to bring it here, we transcend we outta here |
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| 7. |
| 3:57 |
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| 8. |
| 3:25 |
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[Fredro Starr]
The game is fucked up, ya niggas got me tired of rap Right now I'm not inspired by rap Ya niggas ain't Dyin 4 Rap, talkin bout iron for clap Ya niggas never fired a gat Never took it the streets, and supplied it wit packs I had feds in my house, trynna wire my cat In the wall, little cameras hidin in cracks Niggas talk about drug money, what cats you flip On the trains tellin bitches that you crashed ya whip You never seen cop killers wit the plastic grips Turn beef to some funky closed casket shit Blast a fifth, 16 shots, niggas ran 16 blocks 16 niggas drop, ya niggas never seein the plot Never put greens on top, never put fiends on lock My elite niggas scream on cops, hustle dope Roll up, puff up smoke, parolin decode Standin on them corners wit them guns in they coats Had them same little muthafuckas under ya bed Gun to ya head, wake up, wanted ya dead End of the night, take ya light, I'm gettin ya back I'm twistin you back, cuz what ya niggas spittin on tracks'll Get you 16 or 8, gun cap, leave it at that Cuz ya niggas ain't Dyin 4 Rap [Chorus 2X] See, I'm what defines the streets The one that bitches dyin to meet The one ya thugs tryin to be Since I started, I can't count how many sound like me But can't none of ya niggas get down like me Can't none of ya niggas get down like me Can't none of ya niggas get down like me [Fredro Starr] Fuck this rap shit, fuck the rhyme of the year I'm about to get away wit the crime of the year Bought a black dress that's for ya momma to wear Got bitch niggas run when the drama appear Streets ain't safe, six shots, tear ya face Fuck the jake, get caught, clear the case My ups |
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| 9. |
| 3:54 |
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| 10. |
| 3:51 |
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| 11. |
| 4:03 |
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| 12. |
| 4:45 |
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[Intro]
Eh, yo, yo yo This is Ying Yang Twins with a ghetto public service announcment (uh oh) Red light (ohh), red light (ohh, ohh) Stay by yourself, (ohh) by yourself (ohh)... [Chorus - 2X] Smoke by myself Drink by myself Poke these hoes by my goddamn self, for rrreal (By my goddamn self) For rrreal (By my goddamn self) [Verse 1] Nigga dwell on it, can't he So tell on me, got my bitch all at the crib Try to smell on a nigga, wanna stay around him But when I'm sitting on the couch She keep me saying "ouch", cuz she grabbin on my crouch And I already know, thinking to myself What the fuck, somebody told Had to have been one little nigga that I showed Some shit that they never should have seen, anyhow All hell nigguh...hatin' on me now, smokin' on my weed Steady drinkin' on my beer, hell naw niggah Get the fuck up out of here, can't hold one So you can't hold your tongue, niggah lips smackin Like she chew bubble gum, tell her where I been What I did, who I'm with Said see me with two bitches, thats when I said it I gotta stay the fuck away from head, I'ma [Chorus - 2X] [Verse 2] Smokin' weed by myself, drinkin' Henn by myself Buckin' hoes by myself, I fuss with nobody else Now red light, child started a fight Just talking all about us, and whilin', its alright I hate when my brothers, fuckin' up undercovas Shorty, did I stutter? Go get another rubba Child is shaking like blubba, child that want me to cut her Too many niggas in the house, time to get out! I get freaky in the back, while you play at your work I'm hitting the fat monkey, and damn your girl chunky Haven' |
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| 13. |
| 3:41 |
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| 14. |
| 2:59 |
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