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Текст песни Benzino - Redemption

Benzino - Redemption слова песни

* first single; send corrections to the typist[Benzino]Lord help us, my peoples bein` raped (uh)Deliver me from evil and I sell his devils faithLets take a closer look at what`s really happenin`He wants you to believe that it was all about rappin`And all I try to do is open up my niggas eyesIt wasn`t about me and Em, you gotta realiseIt`s just a smokescreen, my niggas there`s a bigger pictureI want the streets to pay attention cause I`m ridin` with yaThis credibility is what we here forThen why ain`t the hoods sellin` units no more (tell me why)Labels actin` like it`s good so they say soEPMD was always gold with no radioNow it`s time to turn the prophesy, times upMarshall Mathers gotta die, rise upNo choise, the only way we gonna turn this shit aroundIs put this little bitch in the groundAnd this so cald kings, steady going at eachotherDo songs with the devil, while they fightin` with there brothersSell a house, fuckin` pitiful, we always just some dramaLet `em slide through then they devide, conquerAnd every plantation got a bunch a house niggasD12, Shady Records just a bunch of house niggasObie Trice, is for security in your front lobbyBetter call the secret service, if you gonna stop me (blaah)Paul Rosenberg, you fat fuckin` pigI`m holdin you responsable for what this bitch did (kill ya)Cause you call me up, try to cop or pleadAs far as I`m concerned you both gonna bleed (bitch)Talkin` bout he wanna fight, pleaseLet`s set that shit up quick so I can drop him to his kneesYou let a clown clown you, how insane is thatYou let em tonguekiss your wife when you had a gatHow you gonna have a gun with no bulletsOh don`t worry cause when I see you I`m gonna pul it (blaah)You dyed ya hear blond, I`m a make it redHow you gonna sell records Marshall when you deadMotherfuck make you pay for that bullshit you talkin`I`m goin` hard in the streets of New York andJust ask Chuck how we ran `em outta BostonHe should have been killed left in the coffinAnd you better keep my kids out ya fuckin` mouthBefore I put a glock in yo` mutherfuckin` mouthTell Haley it ain`t safe no more (nah)Daddy better watch yo` back at the candystoreWe Fucked up, resort to plan BFuck around she and up like Jon Benet Ramsey (that`s right)Matter of fact you better check the DNA (what)She probably ain`t yours, and where`s your wife Kim anywayShe`s on her knees somewhere suckin` 50 CentI know you wishin` you were there cause you on his dickYou dress in drag, you huggin` up on Elton JohnYou closet fag, I`m a king you a little punkYou the rap david doer the rap biblerThe coacher stealer, niggas ain`t with yaI`m the rap Hewey, the rap Malcolm, the rap MartinDon`t worry I`m a finish what we startedAnd everybody who wanna scream Pac`s nameYou don`t make a difference, you in it for the fameCause if Pac was livin`, he would shoot this bitch aliveBut I`m a do it for him, if the hood must surviveYou sleep with five O, you walk with the fedsBetter keep the lights on, when they tuck you into bedCause I`m a get yo` silly ass, find out where you layWhen Debbie set you up you gonna die another day

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