[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
Here I am, here I am Where you at? I be the ruff cat with a back and the napsack Takeing all the shorties out with my wicked flow Wu-tang on the go, never slow time to blow Up so wuzz up, you better duck or get buck Live cool shortie who don't give a flying fuck So whats up sonie? Now let me throw the the Kay The little rascal with a fade and rugged boxs braise So a born a born terror, a.k.a a rugged child Niggaz on my tip so hard I be the life style But I get silky, go for you like milk gee Brothers sun on wack on waxs like Milli Vanilli Uhh! you know I've got the style with the flavor When I stick you up you need more then life savers If I rob a bank can't forget to be swip and if he runs his lip, That as will be his
[chorus x4] Say yeah! Come on ya!
Im the jam, I slam, cause I am the man, hut damn! I swing more beats than tarzan Am a rascal bad little bastard Brothers try to gas it but yo Im not having it Chump try to play me by they trees a company Was a money grip, whats your problem, why your bumpin' me Whats you want beef? Yo she dearload the tec-nine Get the bag full of shells cause Ima get moms boy Ima joker and not just a little tree Cause I row deep with rascal and g.p's Kidnapped your girl, don't worry I wont hurt her But then you try to save her with the old black super sworda' You got srayed your girl got the pinnie-ray Then she got slaved in a old owl sex compays So who are you to try to play lice smooth you ain't cool Thats why we set it of in no' Now what you gonna do? It's a Wu thang You would'nt understand It's a Wu-tang thang My man! It's a Wu thang You would'nt understand It's a Wu-tang thang My man, plus it Im slick thats why you swat my deals nig Well heres a little trick when I flip the bit Ahh shit! I hip with the hop thats why I rock non-stop, you say five is lot But I roll the drip drop Like E. Solo I be the spell bown let a man down Here I am, here I am, here I am L double E you can F U C K with Emmy, So get thruw your fucking head gee Stat Island in the house! Plus my styles is back and fourth from New York back the town suff Let it rain in the park as I start the spark Tah kick the fly rhymes and have you blowin' in the dark ...yo punk as!
[sample] That's a big bad motherfucka comin your way
[Intro: Shyheim (Pop Da Brown Hornet)] One two one two one two one two (Hey yo Shyheim wassup baby There be a lot of shorties out here rockin the mic For like one or two singles but they don't keep comin at em baby You got to come non-stop like consecutive blows to the head dome Gotta keep em movin non-stop, gotta keep em movin, that's all I got to tell You Just keep em movin)
[Shyheim] Hey yo what's goin on Nowadays brothers keep testin me Tryin to get me open and take out the best of me They pull up rough, get snuffed, and then bust When I kick that old underground funk stuff That's comin atcha, better run from the rapture Before I gat'cha I'm buckin shots atcha Buck-buck-buck means you punks better duck Kid you're outta luck, try to flip you get stuck By the Wu-Tang sword, oh lord you shoulda bucked south I'm spittin out on brothers straight from my mouth You just been ripped now watch your blood drip Right down your lip and then I'm ghost in my whip Take a sip I'm the candyman, I got sweets For all the sweet MCs that fake funk in the streets
[Sample (Pop Da Brown Hornet)] Gotta move it over here (Yo keep em movin Shy) Gotta move it over here (Gots to keep em movin baby) Gotta move it over here (Non-stop, non-stop like this) Gotta move it over here (Yo I said I wasn't gonna say no more but I got a little bit more to say) Gotta move it over here (Shyheim you gotta keep em movin baby gotta keep em movin) Gotta move it over here (They can't fuck with you)
[Shyheim] Up comes a shorty, sneaky one Armed with the loaded gun, shit's on lock til I'm done Bad little bastard I'm a rugged child classic How could you ask it when you know that I rips it Check how the Shy flips his tongue like a pro Fifteen years old with nuff skills to flow Props, damn right kid, you know I got lots If rockin hip-hop was a crime call the cops Become a wanted man who was forced to be a fugitive A shorty outta Shaolin Isle with somethin new to give You wanna hear it? It goes a little somethin like this The Wu-Tang click is comin thick If I must be the setter then I'ma have to set it Forget it, that's your last buck don't even bet it If it's rough then it's right and I'm never goin left I'm not a comedy but my jams pack mad def My napsack's full with mad goodies My click keeps a low profile with black hoodies You wanna see me flop, well how can you figure Cause bein rough and rugged's doin well for a nigga
[Sample (Pop Da Brown Hornet)] Gotta move it over here (Yo over here Shy) Gotta move it over here (Yo move em over here Shy) Gotta move it over here (Yo I don't care where you move em just keep em movin) Gotta move it over here (That's all I want you to do baby, hah)
[Shyheim] Back in the flesh it's the wanna get buckwild From Staten Isle it's the return of the rugged child I'm no pimp but I walk with a slick limp And I catch a dunk off the funk like Shawn Kemp I be the beat of the rugged rhyme freaker To blow out your speaker, got more soul than sneakers I swing the parties with the tunes that I hit, many bit But then I zipped up that lip quick I keep it smashed when they dash for my cash they get blast And slapped on that ass real fast I'm supposed to be the best when they flex Don't get vexed, just put that mess right to rest I'm an enemy cause my style is not public Don't dub it cause my flow is masteredly rugged
[Sample (Pop Da Brown Hornet)] Gotta move it over here (Yo when I hear this jam right here I know Shy is tellin me keep em movin) Gotta move it over here (That means if I gotta pull a biscuit out your head and tell you) Gotta move it over here (To get off the wall that's what I'ma tell ya) Gotta move it over here (Cause he's comin hardcore for ya, unh unh) Gotta move it over here (Yo keep em movin Shy) Gotta move it over here (Yo like over here Shy) Gotta move it over here (Yo, yo keep em movin Shy) Gotta move it over here (Yo keep em movin yo, yo keep em movin)
[sample] They're just out there doin it They're just out there doin it and they don't really give a damn what's Happenin [Guru: x2] (And lil shorty with the .38 could pop you and jet)
[Shyheim] We was chillin on the ave buggin out lookin dap And these 4 cold boys rolled up in a cab They pulled out a tool said get against the wall Fuck that, rather brawl then go out at all My man pushed back, body pulled the trigger Nah G, not Amsin, that's my main nigga His body hit the floor, blood covered the ground How that sound? I didn't even give my last pound The red glare with these tears made me shed Now I'm fed My right hand man could be dead Hell no, I couldn't let him flee that ain't me Or have me and my crew lounge in peace So we dash, put the gladiatior on that ass in the grass His life is now come to pass The fear made him shrimp, aw shit the gun slipped My man picked up the burner and emptied the clip In his back, no slack jack it's time to retreat back Wipe the gat and pack it in the napsack Yo be out, cause 5.0 is soon to come And get arrested and bagged for murder one
[Chorus:] (And lil shorty with the .38 could pop you and jet) (And lil shorty with the .38 could pop you and jet) I'm buckwild and I want wreck (And lil shorty with the .38 could pop you and jet) I'm buckwild and I want wreck (And lil shorty with the .38 could pop you and jet)
[Shyheim] I know a kid named Dane, he had mad fame In the drug game, throwin his life down the drain He slang mad rocks on the block til it got hot Then he hit the jackpot, now he owns a crackspot He always got blunted, smoked up the Philly Now he use White Owl minks with his illy Props, had lots and girls around his finger The neighborhood banger and the hot rock slinger The cops is on his back, left, right, right and left He had a plan that was def so he stepped He stuck up Bill, the one from up the hill that was chill Now Bill wants to kill Dane dead For his name and his fame so he did He lit up the kid with lead in his head Now Dane's dead
[Chorus]
[Shyheim] There's a party goin on down the block Pack up, load the gats now my whole crew's strapped, what! Bring the drama, Shaolin against all ya My crew's in here deep ready to bomb ya I got the ill rhymes, nigga's lookin for a show But it's gettin kinda hectic on the mad down low Honies with the big butts whine to get stuck And they kill a bitch and it's time to get bucked Boom baow, niggas wanna drop cause it's real hot And some knucklehead wants to blow up the spot Pulls out a gat or burner he's the man Except he ain't down with the Clan check the plan Shorty's backed up cause we're true to the crew Doin what we gotta do with a 40 ounce of Wu Crashed to the head, 2 seconds from bein dead And it stopped, when these 2 kids busted shots The party's in a smash and the Wu got it locked up It's it, the man on the mic is a props
[Chorus: Shyheim (Down Low Recka)] (You the man Shy) I disagree baby paw You the man K (Who me? Uh-huh no way You the man Shy) Nah you the rah-rah star You the man K (Yeah but you can rip it the right way)
[Shyheim (Down Low Recka)] Well okay if you say so I will be the man But all I wanna do is make my record just slam I wanna be the kid to make the real live single To make the party people in the crowd shake and mingle (Yeah well Shy you can do that with ease real simple) True cause I'm the shorty from the Wu-Tang temple But I can't sleep you get the girls and the cash (Yeah yeah but you're the one that got the shorties in the smash) Take one (take two) We comin through for your crew (Who are you?) Talkin about you man (you can't Wu) But you front, you all out punks on the hunt for some beats To make your next LP complete (Here we come) To make the crowd scream for the Clan One by one (Takin out your crew cause we can Get the gun) Better yet a knife what the heck The job gets done (When we chop the head from the neck) Since I'm short they have no other choice but to sleep underneath The blow that be knockin out teeth (I be the K, The Down Low Recka on the set I gets wreck I make the calm sweat wanna bet)
[Chorus]
[Down Low Recka] So wassup better duck from my ill megablast You move too fast and your ass is in the smash The Down Low Recka, shit I rock full clip In my glock gets hot so stay off my block I come down hard on cornballs who sleep talk Cause you won't survive in New York I flow a mad thick like the sap from a tree I'm of the live brothers represents G.P. I'm hot like the sun, find shade I got my rays on ya Come near to raid my sphere and I'ma lay for ya I see ya comin with attempts to Bougard Peek-a-boo you ain't hard I pulled your whole card I got flavor, you're damn right I gots style Nine yards, nah the K goes the whole mile Whoever said I wasn't ill with the skill One minute I parlay, the next I'm all in your grill
[Shyheim (Down Low Recka)] Back up, gimme some room so I can flip this You touch this, come on, and get your style busted You lay around and watch me break the mic stand You should know by now that I am the man Comin through, takin my place yeah you all know That I can't be touched by a crew or any solo Who dares to step to this kid and his Clan (Aww damn) Another crew done by the hand Of the Shy (What you do kid) I did him prop (Where's the payphone) Hell yeah, somebody call the cops When me and K grease somebody do somethin Stop bluffin and frontin cause you ain't sayin nuthin You're lyin, claimin that you rip shop up You ain't heard it from me cause I ain't one to gossip
[Chorus]
[Outro: Down Low Recka (Shyheim)] (Yeah, the Down Low Recka, niggaz ain't really wanna battle) The Rugged Child is the man to all you crab ass niggaz (Mad flavor, no sweetness necessary, and we out) Peace
[Chorus x2:] Napsack on my back Napsack on my back Napsack on my back (I carry a full pack)
[Shyheim] I rocks the blocks with the rugged hip-hop And I can't be stopped cause my jam pumps like Reebok Go get a grip as I flip the bic Don't slip cause I rip shit and I'll packs a biscuit So make em jump jump cause I gotta pump pump I'll stick it in your gut and see who jumps up So tell me now do you think you can hang With the Wu (Wu) Tang (Tang) boom (boom) bang bang Crunch that blast up the trunk of a punk With the funk that gots em doin the drunken monk On the Shaolin beatbox cause I rocks steady Don't sweat me cause I get crazy like Eddie Boom-bah, some say I am a superstar Tell em all I am what I am baby paw And my beats, fatter than fat, they're not funny Cause these drums remind me of One's 4 Da Money Now tell me that me and R can't drop hits Then you heard it but then you tried to rhyme and got dissed My style, my flow for real will have you chumped And I get like Ziggy and toss it up
[Chorus x4]
[Shyheim] My styles is dope so call the kid dynamite I writes the rhymes that's redder than bloodsight A trail of thunder with rugged hardcore When I rips the crowd the dancefloor gets sore I laid down my game with my shade and razor cane I laid down my game and parlayed with my gang A little rascal was a bad little bastard (So you're the rugged child) I see you're learnin fast kid Get the message I rapped several texts So don't even try to step to this with that old bullshit On how you better me and how you could do me Come on son, cause you know my style is groovy To the max as I watch and give a beatin And I got more bats in me than Michael Keaton
[Chorus x4]
[Shyheim] I'm kickin master Wu-Tang slang cause I'm a slinger I got a magic grip so you could call me Golden Fingers I'm rough and I'm tough but I keep it on profile Wanna peep my style take a ride to the Isle I'll meet you on the other side, we'll take ya dollar man To prove to my fans that I really am the man The hardcore shorty that will keep ya head boppin And while I keep rockin your ears will start poppin To that freaky flow and all that old good shit And not to be conceited but hey, the shoe fits Gimme room, I love to hear the next competition So I can prepare to give another ass whippin Short sneaky Shy-Shy the kid with the props I'll make your heart stop at the pop of a glock A Tech-9, an uzi, so what can you do me? But take his advice be the next one to sweat me
[Intro:] This Bob Billiard for the Entertainment News In the news today yoth rapper Shyheim AKA the Rugged Child Is rapidly climbing the charts and making a lot of noise Shyheim seems to be one of those little boy rappers Who are making a lot of money. Personally I don't think a little boy should get paid
[Verse One:]
Don't call me boy! (why?) Haven't you heard? Boy ain't nothin' but a white man's word As the old saying go- I could never forget. Boy plays a tarzan g-tuck quit So call me Shy with the Ooh la la la Kissin' young girls and i makes them hollar Fortan can never be an orphan. New Yorkin' Wu-slang talkin' So hump the mile as I walk the mile The little rascal's bucked un-juvenile. I be the captain of dappin' of Rappin' How you scatchin' the cuts and the scratchin' Not your average shorty 140 on the block I got more props than your 1,000 cops Stop! In the name of me. Like Denise Williams I gots to be free To do what I want to do. Oh Shaboo Here come the Little Rascals
[Chorus:] One little two little three little rascals Four little five little six little rascals Seven little eight nine little rascals Ten rugged rascals in all
[Verse Two:]
Gotta make a record to gain recognition, or competition My posse is blitzin': I yell hooray! When they cross the barricade Fuck the arcade- No games are being played Sneaky little Shy from the streets of Staten Somethin' shot me and my cousin cry Jason Jason Jason- time for chasi' -girls I'm on every case like Perry Mason Step in they face and beg them for they number Get the seven digits and now they like the roadrunner Beep! Beep! Yo, things is gettin' deep. Takin' old does and coffee There's no time to sleep. A tazmanian walkin' maniac A young girl playing rap brainiac So pump up the volume. For 10 balls you could have the whole album Of the rugged- Child- Chi- Chi- Chi- Bow!! Little Rascal Style
[Shyheim] There's a party goin on 5c-75 Everyone's gonna be there I bet it be live Ran home mad quick jumped in the tub real fast Condition my hair, put on cologne at last Iron my pants with my blue jean jacket Put on socks black tops with a hat and three packets Clipped my key to my pants, my dough in my right pocket Fly lookin dip can't get even smoke a brain spark it Take a bus now, I call up Newport cab Pay up front says the driver cause he almost got stabbed Pay my fee real quick, jumped out the cab real fast Cut through the alley, oh shit I almost bust my ass Ran up the stairs and just look what I see Crazy dope cuties just starin at me Put on my chump chain with my lucky go getter They're whisperin and laughin "Uh huh he's a winner" Feelin dope, like I never did before Umm, thought for a second and I stepped to the door Knocked three times before someone had opened They said "Yo look at shorty yo he must've been smokin" Shut the door on my face, the girls they say "Don't worry" I said "Damn, I'm still ranked as a shorty"
[Chorus x8]
[Shyheim] There's a party goin on are you with me Before you pay your loot make sure it's not empty Cause many people be schemin for a buck Watch out, pray for luck that you won't get stuck By a mob or a crew or a Clan but if it's one man Let the shit hit the fan Cause ain't no way in this world I'm playin pussy Niggaz better try to kill and ambush me Blow for blow, hit for hit money quit Before I have to do some old wild crazy shit So I take the live and put it with the raw And score and draw mad blood from a whore Then I burn an MC up like a burnt english muffin Brothers always puffin in but ain't sayin nuthin To a smooth brother Shy on the slippery script For me to flip up and kick like a kung-fu flick Polish MCs like Griff and offer up an alibi High like Tone-Loc keep you horny like Spanish Fly Clip up a whole new click with Mr. Clean If that don't do it I get on the reverend Visine And still come off on the top so you drop Now I rock the parties non-stop Hickory dickory tickle me - stop Shyheim came to rock this spot Hands in the air as you dance to this jam In command hot damn the kid who slams Up a party and steals like to star G Used to body but now I'm pumpin hotties
[Outro: samples] There's a party over here Party over here There's a party over here (All that, all that youknowI'msayin) There's a party over here (All that, all that youknowI'msayin) Party over here There's a party over here (All that youknowI'msayin)
[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
(a.k.a, a.k.a, the rugged child) Microphone check, one-two, one-two, yo Microphone check, one-two, one-two, yo Microphone check, one-two, one-two, yo Microphone check, one-two,
[chorus x2] One's for the money Two's for the show Three's for ya hooker But we all say, HOE!
My slang and my gang bows up the concrete Like everybeing rocking Don't sweat the technics So you got beef Narrow sony go get ya posse Cause I've got a mosse, when you wear haratchies Then you hear me kicking as I own you, it's mad ruggie The jump on my tip, but I taught nuff to naw it Cause I let the microphone spark right after dark And be dropping mad skillz like my name was Pad Mark The rebel to society Everyone's trying me Loking at me strange leave dim raid it'll mase me Had I did something wrong go and my dumb Brothers keep stressing, no shorties the one To make it real snappy, and little nasty-nasty Things get pawsie-pawsie And of to be hax me It'll little gone and still can hold you on, on Microphone so keep licking on that wish bone You had you're chans but you feld out on tune, So you're hanging out with deuce, now you say that rock rues You make me laugh as you're mom's get smoke You get ain't like a taffy, and red like the chokes Flow with the flow from the Wu-tang free-style You catch yo bow-bow, And they're two's this wild, child From the Staten the Island, the temple Just an exemple how pop goes the pistole
[chorus x2] One's for the money Two's for the show Three's for ya hooker But we all say, HOE!
Here comes the shortie with the tec twenty two But If you tell Im gonna blast you From the projects worst ghetto section So my back but gun from protection Shortie do-wa, more shoops and tupa' Come and do with the Wu-tang hip-hop Shortie wa-wa, shorts sniki sha-sha Go-go, ga-ga, now you want me popa Im not a mack daddy or my daddy mack Touch my napsack, boy you gettin' pitch smack I've got a style may not be formilliar It's like both way you're callin' round in a cosha Who will be the next to flex and face death Ashes to ashes, and only dust is left
[chorus x2] One's for the money Two's for the show Three's for ya hooker But we all say, HOE!
[Intro: Shyheim] Damn, you ever see somebody you never thought You was gonna see again, word That shit is real, yo Nigga should do real sucka shit, right Paige? Ahaha, but you know, we stay g'd up, you know?
[Shyheim] I dream of nickels, she's two nickles With that, equals, is a dime She's a cool girl, a school girl It's true girl, I live the life of crime If I change my hustle, can we be a couple You be Kimora Lee, I'll be Russell I'll sell all my Def Jam's, off the muscle I'm nothin' like a cop, but, I'll handcuff you Take you to my precent, I'll treat you decent You still don't believe it, well here's the reason You like poetry? Can we read under a tree Walk by the lake, while you tell bout your day Would that be O.J., I mean, okay You can come around my, and chilll on my block All day, everyday, til the gun shots stop Stop, stop, stop, stop
[Chorus x2: Bee-Gee] I've never seen you, on any streets In the hood, in the stores, in the schools But right now, baby, oh, there you go
[Shyheim] Imagine life with me, and what it could bring Possibly, endless bliss to be Let's create history, make our mark Take my heart, please don't rip it apart You have potential, that's why I'm so into you Miss Celebrity, can I have an interview I know you got things to do, so I'mma be quick Can I feed you chicken noodle soup, if you get sick Rub you down with Vick's, do you like them Knicks Well, I can get tickets, would you like to kick it? Do you want a Snapple, how about a Mystic? I help reassure you, if you optomistic Share my visions, peep my pictures Aren't they vivid? You keep them livin' In the fist of Wu, plus in the spirit Flowin' like the rhythm, similar to my lyrics
[Chorus x2]
[Outro: Shyheim] It was like, I was never seein' her Bee, no matter where I go What hood, I was in, I wasn't seein' her But then I seen her, and felt real good So it don't matter if I never see her again Not to say it don't matter, but If I don't see her again, you know I'm grateful for that time, that I seen her Well actually, that I seen you Aight, yeah, Bottom Up, Brock Bros Yeah, DeJaun what up? Bee-Gee on the hook Yeah... signin' off...
[Intro: Shyheim] Damn, you ever see somebody you never thought You was gonna see again, word That shit is real, yo Nigga should do real sucka shit, right Paige? Ahaha, but you know, we stay g'd up, you know?
[Shyheim] I dream of nickels, she's two nickles With that, equals, is a dime She's a cool girl, a school girl It's true girl, I live the life of crime If I change my hustle, can we be a couple You be Kimora Lee, I'll be Russell I'll sell all my Def Jam's, off the muscle I'm nothin' like a cop, but, I'll handcuff you Take you to my precent, I'll treat you decent You still don't believe it, well here's the reason You like poetry? Can we read under a tree Walk by the lake, while you tell bout your day Would that be O.J., I mean, okay You can come around my, and chilll on my block All day, everyday, til the gun shots stop Stop, stop, stop, stop
[Chorus x2: Bee-Gee] I've never seen you, on any streets In the hood, in the stores, in the schools But right now, baby, oh, there you go
[Shyheim] Imagine life with me, and what it could bring Possibly, endless bliss to be Let's create history, make our mark Take my heart, please don't rip it apart You have potential, that's why I'm so into you Miss Celebrity, can I have an interview I know you got things to do, so I'mma be quick Can I feed you chicken noodle soup, if you get sick Rub you down with Vick's, do you like them Knicks Well, I can get tickets, would you like to kick it? Do you want a Snapple, how about a Mystic? I help reassure you, if you optomistic Share my visions, peep my pictures Aren't they vivid? You keep them livin' In the fist of Wu, plus in the spirit Flowin' like the rhythm, similar to my lyrics
[Chorus x2]
[Outro: Shyheim] It was like, I was never seein' her Bee, no matter where I go What hood, I was in, I wasn't seein' her But then I seen her, and felt real good So it don't matter if I never see her again Not to say it don't matter, but If I don't see her again, you know I'm grateful for that time, that I seen her Well actually, that I seen you Aight, yeah, Bottom Up, Brock Bros Yeah, DeJaun what up? Bee-Gee on the hook Yeah... signin' off...
I'm goin' all out, I love trout Black is what I be about 95-south all the way up, I tear mics up peep the conduct, wherever lightning struck tear the jail up, truck with the mind food truck with jewels, forget babylon rules I'm crusin' with the angels goin' through Parkhill, let the Gods build and all of that graduation hats, bigger stacks ya'll hardly ever seen besides cream I got the vaccine for ya'll uncle Tom rappers I told ya'll before to be easy, Devils attackin' is practice provocative songs, yeah It's Donna, don't even panic hold ya'll like the Atlantic Pillage at your service clubs start to get nervous loose lips, it's like emptyin' clips packed with the info, join the revolution slang prostitution, even if you boostin' play it like you still chill, homicide hill from the other side my Mother sighed, strugglin, poor and tired a Baby that never cried, a family that never died I see everything from the outside.
Chorus -
O.T.F. and The Pillage, we all comin' through watch your back nigga, and your girl watch it too 'cause we conduct big business, raw is how we give this live this, thats how we conduct big business O.T.F. and The Pillage, hide your shine nigga when we come through, might have to jump on you 'cause we conduct big business, raw is how we live this give this, thats how we conduct big business.
Verse 2: (Shyhiem)
I ride shotgun in Cappa's Black ML Four-Twenty Benz Jeep with big boy heat, a Thirty-Thirty shotgun, pull it out and s
